


Penance

by CarvcrEdlund



Series: Lucifer Meets World [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-adjacent, Character with mental illness not treated as a cripple, Gen, He's a ghost though, He's just an angry ball of hate, He's mad at everything tho, Human Lucifer, Kevin is a smartass, Lucifer is mad at God, Lucifer makes a friend, Lucifer sucks at being human more than I do, Lucifer sucks at driving, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prequel, THE STRUGGLE, That likes soda pop, The Cage™, Wholesome Bromance, a n g s t, and hoodies, bros before hoes, but he tries, did I mention?, oh boy does he try, this is basically a buddy-cop show once you get past the ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarvcrEdlund/pseuds/CarvcrEdlund
Summary: Prequel to"Comeuppance". However, it can be read as a stand-alone, or before reading "Comeuppance".• • •Rather than the promise she made to make Lucifer's body strong enough to hold him, Rowena relieves him of his angelic grace altogether. He doesn't have an issue with his vessel deteriorating anymore, but now he's got a slew of new problems to cope with.Even reduced to a Human, Lucifer shows that he's got what it takes to meet the World head-on.• • •PTSD-Warning. A character in this fic has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and experiences multiple flashbacks.





	1. Hitting the Road

Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t think about it. Just keep moving, you’ll be fine.

 

Forward. Forward is your only option. Keep moving forward.

 

Three Days (assuming he isn’t being lied to again). One day gone, two to go.

 

Walking. So much walking.

 

“I need a car.” The thought came to Lucifer suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. The Devil blinks, his train of thought (or perhaps it might be better described as a train of trying-not-to-have-thoughts) momentarily derailed by the conclusion.

“Stupid, why didn’t I think of that a day ago?” He berates himself out loud, not that anyone would notice, given that he’s entirely alone on a desert highway. (Michigan? Canada, maybe? Geography never was his biggest concern...)

Well, _almost_ entirely alone. Occasionally a car will drive by in one direction or another, but it’s fairly clear that this road isn’t a busy one. _Why_ he thought it would be a good idea to pick a direction and start walking, Lucifer will never know. (That’s not really true. He knows that he didn’t care where he went, so long as it was far _, far_ away from _there_. Now whether he wants to admit that to himself or not, is another matter entirely.)

One such car just entered his auditory range, driving up the road from behind him. It's engine is terribly loud, and as it gets closer, Lucifer can smell the diesel fuel it uses. His nose wrinkles just a bit in distaste, eager for the car to pass him. But, unfortunately, it doesn't. The loud truck slows down to match his speed, and the driver rolls his window down, propping his elbow up on the edge of it so he can speak to Lucifer.

"Hey there, you headed for Lansing?" The man asks with a pleasant southern drawl. Out of place for this far north, and certainly a welcome change from the too-peppy speech pattern the locals have adopted.

Looking up reveals a sign declaring 'Lansing: 25 mi', and that he's on route 96. He hasn't seen any other signs telling him he's heading elsewhere... so Lansing it is, apparently. "… Yeah. That direction, anyways."

The man smiles upon hearing his answer. "Looks like you've been walking fer awhile, partner. I'm headed that-a-way myself, d'ya need a lift?" The car stops as Lucifer does, giving the stranger a once-over.

It's really his legs that make the decision for him. Lucifer's been walking nearly non-stop for about twelve hours (though he'd insist it was almost a day), and he can definitely feel it. Not only that, but his mouth is awfully dry, and his midriff keeps making noises at him. Human bodies require so much attention. Ugh. "If you wouldn't mind." He accepts the offer politely, finding himself suddenly _wanting_ to be nice to this... Good Samaritan.

The man's smile widens even further as he shifts the car into park and unlocks the doors, gesturing for Lucifer to hop in on the passenger side. "Not at all, partner. Jus' happy to help my fellow man." Nodding, and mystified by the man's openly friendly demeanour, Lucifer walks around the front of the car. "Doesn't hurt that I can use the carpool lane when we get into town now, too." He adds cheerfully as Lucifer makes his way into the passenger seat. "Buckle up and we'll get going right quick, now."

The blonde does as asked, quickly recalling the function of seatbelts from seeing one of the Winchesters 'buckle up' before.

The older-looking, southern man extends a hand to him after he secures himself. "The name's Donny, son. Donny Millard. Who're you?”

Taking his hand and shaking it, Lucifer finally offers the man the barest hint of a smile. "Lucifer. Just Lucifer."

"Well, I'll be." The greying man whistles lowly. "That a stage name 'r somethin'?"

Somehow, Lucifer manages to keep a straight face as he answers, serious as a funeral. "God-given, actually."

The man shakes his head as he puts the car back in drive. "Well ain't that something. 's your family real religious?"

"You could say that."

 

• • •

 

All things considered, the ride was nice. The friendly, idle conversation did a better job at distracting Lucifer from his current dilemma than the aimless walking ever did. And he didn't need to add much to the conversation, as the older man was happy to just talk enough for both of them. Lucifer learned quite a few things by just listening to him, some of which might be useful, and others which most likely would not be. Like, while this man was genuinely being nice, and partly wanted Lucifer’s company because rush hour in the city makes the carpool lane far more preferable, it’s generally not a great idea to get in strangers’ cars. He now knows more than he ever really wanted to about this old man’s family, but Donny _is_ helping him out, so he’s not complaining.

Eventually, they reach the inner city, and Donny slows to a stop at a gas station. “Alright, Lou.” (As a church-going man, Donny refused to call him Lucifer.) he gets out to use the gas pump, gesturing for Lucifer to come out too. “My daughter’s house ain’t too much further. This is as far as I take ya.” Lucifer nods his understanding, not really sure what he’s supposed to say. Donny helps him out, one more time. “Good luck out there, son. I don't know where yer headed, but I wish you a safe trip. Put ‘er there.” And with that, he put out his hand, and Lucifer took it, giving his (acquaintance? Accomplice?) … giving the old man a firm handshake.

“You stay safe too, Donny. And thank you for your help. How can I repay you?” He asks, frankly blown away by the kindness the man has shown him so far. There has to be something Donny wants in return, right?

But again, Lucifer was proven wrong by this man. Donny puts up a hand, shaking his head as he speaks. “No, no, I'll take nothing from yeh. You just have a good journey now, alright? And thank yeh fer putting up with an old man an' his stories, that's all I ask of yeh.”

For a second, Lucifer is struck speechless again. Save for the advantage of taking the carpool lane, this man had nothing to gain by helping a stranger, and did so anyways. And asks for nothing in return. Lucifer had never believed the 'Good Samaritan' story until now.

No. One friendly act does not a good man make. Perhaps 'Donny' has done horrible things, and helping out wandering strangers is his way of balancing the books before he dies. There's always a motivation, right? Humans are inherently selfish, and this man is no different. He may _claim_ to want nothing in return, but there must be some reason for it, that he simply isn't telling Lucifer. Yes, that must be it.

Satisfied with this explanation, Lucifer smiles back at the older man, in a convincing facsimile of genuine appreciation. "If you insist. Thank you again for your generosity, Donny. I won't forget it. Enjoy the rest of your night!"

The friendly words come easily to him, and Donny grins as if Lucifer had just made his day. Nothing else is said between them as Lucifer waves goodbye and walks towards the convenience store attached to the gas station. "Gas'n'Sip", the glowing sign reads above the entrance. The break from walking was nice, and Donny gave him one of the extra water bottles he had on him (apparently Randalls had a 'really great deal' on Ozarka water—whatever that means—and Donny may have bought a bit more than he strictly needed), but Lucifer was starting to realise that he could no longer ignore his body's demand for food, so he'd have to see what he can get there with the contents of Vince Vincente's pockets.

—And that's another thing. As much as he likes the leather/Rock-star look, it's not exactly great for walking in, and these clothes were tailored for Vince, not Nick. They fit okay, but they're a bit too loose around the waist, too tight around the shoulders, and just generally not as comfortable as they were meant to be. He'll have to find something more suitable to wear for travel, and maybe get a bag or something to carry food and water.

All these thoughts were doing a fantastic job of distracting him from _it._ The one glaring problem with all of this that he's staunchly refusing to acknowledge. It's easier to think about how he's going to adapt to his newfound humanity than it is for him to consider the fact that he _is_ very much human now. (Save for his lack of a soul, that is. Not that he actually _knows_ if he has one or not, he just assumes that's the case.)

But he's not thinking about any of that. He's very pointedly _avoiding_ any thoughts that might lead to him being forced to address the problem with his current condition.

He needs a plan. That much is clear. This aimless wandering won't keep the demons or angels off his ass for long. He suspects that the only reason no one has found him yet is that they don't know that he's weakened. But if Rowena keeps to her word, that won't be the case for much longer.

If he's going to survive and come out on top, he needs weapons, power, magical protection. He needs to be able to travel without (what did Donny call it?) hitchhiking. Something long-term, that he can ward thoroughly enough to keep any and all supernatural beings from finding it or getting inside. He needs a car, preferably one that can't be traced back to 'Vince Vincente', so buying one new is out of the question. He can't just steal one, either, because people will be looking for it the moment they realise it's gone. He needs something abandoned, that no one will notice should it disappear. It should be inconspicuous, too, something that won't draw attention like the Winchesters' Impala does. He _definitely_ doesn't need to be arrested. An arrest would put him out in the open, right where any demon, angel, witch, or nosy Winchester can find him.

As he thinks about this, he browses through the shelves, reading the colourful food labels and their prices. Does this store have anything _real_? Or do they deal exclusively in these pre-packaged, processed creations? There's fruit at the end of the aisle, and pre-made sandwiches in the cooler. There aren't any backpacks for sale, just flimsy-looking drawstring bags that he'd rather not waste his limited resources on. Deciding that the food choices are better than nothing, and at least they _look_ like real food, he picks up two of the sandwiches, a few apples and oranges, and several bottles of water before walking up to the counter to pay for it all.

He never really paid much attention to the humans' monetary system, but he knows enough to get Vince Vincente's wallet out and just pull the largest valued bill ($50) out and hand it to the cashier. Before the young woman finishes ringing everything up, he picks up a map from the counter's display and adds it to everything else he has. "This too..." He glances at her nametag. "… Sam." Ugh. Really. What are the odds?

The tiny woman beams at him with a well-practiced, forced smile. "The maps're free, sir. Yer tot'al is $26.78." She announces with feigned enthusiasm, taking the $50 he hands her, quickly hands back his change, and then bags up his purchases. Her thick Michigander accent is a little difficult to understand, but Lucifer manages. As he tucks away the money and his wallet, he notices the odd look she gives him before handing the plastic sack to him. "Thank yuh fer shoppin' at Gas'n'Sip, have ah great day." He inclines his head to her, but before he can leave, she voices the question obviously on her mind. "What's with'all the leath'ah? Are yuh going to'ah biker meetin' er something?"

Though he knows perfectly well what he looks like, Lucifer finds himself looking down at his outfit anyways. He shakes his head slightly, feeling the need to justify himself. "I was at a concert." She accepts the answer with a nod, but her comment gets him thinking. Maybe there's someplace nearby that he can get a suitable bag and a change of clothes? "Actually, I was really out of it afterwards, and I'm not entirely sure how I ended up here. Do you know where I could get a phone? And some fresh clothes?"

'Sam' seems to find that terribly amusing, but she hides it very well. "Yeah, show me your map there, won't'cha?" He does so, and she points to a corner on the blown-up city map. "That's us, there. There's ah Dollah Gen'ral an'ah Salvay'shun Army just down the street here. Just go left when yeh leave an' head down Elmwud road. Can't miss 'em."

Lucifer doesn't know what a Dollar General or a Salvation Army is (at least, he thinks that's what she said), but he assumes they have what he asked for, so he thanks her and heads out, seeing 'Elmwood Road' to his left, just like she directed.

Donny's car is gone already.

Well, no use in standing around. Lucifer pulls out his turkey on rye, unwraps it and tosses the trash in a bin before walking the way Sam had directed. (People can say a lot of things about Lucifer, but let it not be said that he's a litterer.)

 

• • •

 

Doubts as to its creation aside, Lucifer actually enjoyed his sandwich. And Sam was right, he was able to find the stores without too much trouble. He found a well-worn and loose-fitting black shirt (that advertised for the 'Easy Lay' carpeting company, "satisfaction guaranteed" [[like this]](http://rlv.zcache.com.au/easy_lay_tee_shirts-rf6d59fdd7ea546658690416443d3ea33_jf4s8_324.jpg)), a comfortable pair of jeans (with a hole in one of the knees), a grey zip-up hoodie [[like this]](http://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0155/7453/products/lightweight-side-label-mens-hoodies-gray-ath-2.jpeg?v=1348396350) (the only one that wasn't too small, was a size too big), a decent-sized backpack (a couple of the zipper pulls were broken off), a silver-lined flask, and a pair of (very) used sneakers at Salvation Army, which was apparently just a store that sells items people have donated. He was able to get everything for under $30. They let him change in the bathroom, too, and he had to admit that the more airy-clothing was a nice change, even in the chilly weather. The hoodie, though a bit too big, was very warm, and definitely a good choice.

At the Dollar General, everything is a dollar. Which makes sense, in hindsight. He got a decent pocketknife, a kitchen knife with sheath, spray-paint, rock salt, zip-ties, wire clippers, and several sharpies. The cashier gave him a funny look at the checkout, but Lucifer honestly doesn't give a crap about what any random person thinks of him. Neither store had any guns, unfortunately, and he realised that in order to get one, he'd have to get a license for it first. Which likely wasn't going to happen any time soon. He had neither the time nor the money for it.

Maybe he'll get lucky again and just _find_ one.

Now better-equipped and more-appropriately dressed, Lucifer looks his map over as he attempts to satisfy his hunger with one of the apples. He likes the apple much more than he liked the sandwich, and finishes it off very quickly.

Lansing is a decent-sized city, but it's not too far from Detroit, and Lucifer can't help but feel drawn to the city where Sam finally said yes to him. He didn't even realise that was the direction he'd been headed in until now, and the city just seemed... right. So he decides to keep heading east, and gets to walking across the city right away.

He gets an idea after seeing a man get on a bus by telling the driver 'whoops, must've left my card at home. Would'ya let me on anyways? I'm already running late, y'know?' It worked for that driver, whether or not the man was telling the truth. The bus map is outlined on the blown-up map, and Lucifer quickly finds the nearest stop for the line that can take him across the city. He starts to give the driver a similar speech to what he'd heard when she asks for his ID, and the driver cuts him off with a sympathetic smile.

"Hop on, pal." She waves him past, probably just wanting to get all the passengers on board so she can keep the line going. There were six others waiting with him, so that must've helped his case.

Whatever the reason, it works, and Lucifer sighs internally with relief, glad that he can relax for a little bit longer before he has to get walking again.

He takes a seat at the back corner of the bus, where there isn't much room for his legs between his seat and the row of seats lining the side of the bus, but there’s a window, and he leans against it to watch the dreary scenery pass him by. Brick buildings and harsh neon signs fill his vision, and he’s quietly glad that he didn’t need to walk past each and every one. The sidewalks are crowded, too, and he finds himself glad that he avoided all that as well.

He feels his eyelids being to grow heavy with the humming of the bus’ loud engine, and momentarily becomes exasperated with himself once more. What now, body? He fed himself, he’s wearing more suitable clothing, but still it seems this flesh prison will not be appeased.

Without thinking about it too much, Lucifer hugs the hoodie a little tighter around himself, struggling to keep his eyes open. Is he tired? Is that it? He already slept though, and not even all that long ago. He's been awake for... about 15 hours? If that? All he remembers is passing out shortly after... _it_ and waking up in his old vessel rather than Vince Vincente. Rowena must have done that, and he's almost thankful for it. He spent a lot of time wearing this body, and he's fairly familiar with the weight and balance of it. More so than he was with Vince's body, anyways. He even unconsciously manifested as this body in the cage, purely because of his familiarity with it.

He really liked the expressiveness of Nick's face, too, not that he would ever admit it to anyone other than himself. Nick has a way of garnering sympathy and commanding respect in a way the other vessels he's taken just... don't. Not only was it easy, it was actually fun to manipulate people while wearing Nick Monroe. People just _respond_ to him in such delicious ways, he would even go out of his way during his downtime to just _screw_ with unsuspecting humans. Rile them up, get their emotions running high, and then crush all their pathetic little hopes. Sometimes he'd just leave them like that, sometimes he'd take pity and end their suffering nice and quick. Sometimes he'd talk a person into bleeding for him, just because he could. It was fun. He enjoyed it immensely. And now, he likely won't get the chance to do it again.

Lucifer didn't even realise he'd drifted off to sleep until about half an hour later when the bus comes to a jarring halt, and the driver announces over the intercom that it's the final stop, so everyone needs to get off. It's not very difficult for him to rouse himself. His legs are cramped, and his face feels numb where it was pressed against the frigid window. It's a lot colder here tonight than it was when he was walking on the road earlier.

With a slight groan and a moment of self-chastisement, he gets himself up and off the bus, pulling his map out again to figure out which direction he needs to head. He can see his breath now, and he starts to regret not buying the heavier jacket he'd seen. The jeans do a good enough job, however, even with the hole in the knee. He zips up his hoodie and pulls the sleeves down to cover all the way to the knuckles of his fingers after putting the map back away, and starts working his way quickly down the street. There aren't many people left outside at this time of night, or perhaps it's just this part of the city. It doesn't take him long at all to make his way to the outskirts and more suburban areas, and by the time he's there, the walk has helped him warm up pretty thoroughly.

He ends up getting a ride the rest of the way out of the city. A woman who introduced herself as ‘Liz’ offered him a ride as she was on her way back home, all the way out by the highway. It wasn't a long trip, but it definitely would have been a lot longer if he’d had to walk the whole way instead. He thanked her for the assistance, asked her if the highway went to Detroit, and went on his way.

It was about that time at which his lower body began to feel uncomfortable, and he realises with a touch of disgust that he’ll need to… rid himself of his waste… fairly soon. His body is so needy, and so inefficient. It's such a chore to take care of, a fact which he silently adds to the many reasons that humans are inferior in every way to angel-kind. How could his father possibly have thought this was a good idea? That these abominations are somehow _better_ than them, than _Him_? They're flawed, broken, and so easily corrupted. He hates this.

He hates being _human_. Lucifer hates the insistent hunger his body feels, the pull of sleep, the aches and pains from all the walking he’s done, the sweat, the cold, the _feelings_ , and now this latest indignity. Human waste. Disgusting.

With nowhere else to go, Lucifer resorts to using a tree as cover for himself. He can't even bring himself to look as he pisses behind a tree, looking for all the world like he’d rather die than suffer another second of this.

And it’s _cold_. Lucifer knows cold. He’s always thrived in the chill of the arctic, in the brisk, thin air of the atmosphere. But not so, now. Now, he can't help but shiver violently as he walks, the temperature dropping ever further as the night goes on.

It’s late into the night when he hears another car head his way down the road, and he puts his arm up and makes a fist with his thumb sticking out like he’d seen a few other people doing in the city. Luckily, the driver notices him and pulls over on the road, rolling down a window. “Need a lift?”

The man’s accent is clipped, and Lucifer can't quite place it. He was only certain that he wasn't from Michigan. It doesn't seem terribly important to him. “Yeah, I'm trying to get to Detroit.”

“You won't get very far if you die out here in the cold, buddy. Hop in, I can get you as far as Neighbour.” The young man unlocks his car, and with a word of thanks, Lucifer gets in. His fingers and other extremities are all beginning to go numb on him, so he doesn't think twice about joining the stranger in the relative warmth of his car.

The window is rolled up, and the heater is already on, quickly thawing Lucifer’s frozen fingers and nose.

They trade the standard pleasantries, but this driver doesn't seem to be terribly interested in chatting him up, unlike the other two. That's fine with Lucifer; he’s never objected to a little bit of piece and quiet. In place of idle conversation, Lucifer pays more attention to his surroundings, noting the little details in the man’s car, and the occasional break in the monotony of the landscape passing them by. He finds himself looking towards the young man at the wheel, trying to place his accent and appearance.

He seemed to be of eastern origin for the most part; looking to be at least half Vietnamese. But the size of his nose and the tone of his skin didn’t quite match that description. His skin tone was a few shades too dark, making him look permanently suntanned, though Lucifer is very sure that no one has gotten much sun around here recently. His nose is wide, making Lucifer think of the early humans (like Adam and Eve. The descendants that most closely resemble them nowadays would be those who inhabit northeastern Africa, particularly Ethiopians). He has very short, black hair, shaved very close to his scalp. The man doesn’t take his attention off of driving much, though he does glance periodically at his dial display.

He doesn’t have the radio on, leaving the sound of the car’s engine and the tires against the road to be the only sounds occupying his attention.

After about half an hour of this silence, Lucifer begins to feel a bit restless, and while he doesn’t mind some silence every now and then, he much prefers being the centre of attention. “So, what’s in Neighbour for you?”

The African-Asian man glances over at him, looking vaguely annoyed. “I live there.”

“Ah.” Lucifer responds articulately, leaning back in his seat. “So why were you all the way out here?”

The man’s look of annoyance grows slightly. “I was hunting.”

That catches Lucifer’s attention. It takes him a second to realise that it’s unlikely the man is the Winchester brand of ‘Hunter’, at which point he relaxes again. “Really? What were you hunting for?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He doesn’t answer the blonde, just keeping his eyes firmly on the road.

With a touch of disappointment, Lucifer abandons the attempt to start a conversation, deciding that this guy just wasn’t the talking type. He turns his attention back outside, entertaining himself with thoughts of what he’s going to do once he reaches Detroit.

The car has to be his first priority. He’s got just under a day and a half before people start looking for him, so he needs to get that car, and he needs to ward himself. He can use the sharpies he bought to apply temporary concealment wards to his skin, but it’d be better if he could make those permanent. Tattoos, perhaps? How much would that cost him? He really needs to go through his wallet and figure out exactly what it is he has. He saw a few of those bills labeled with 50s on them, and it seems like he can stretch that amount fairly far, considering how much he bought with just one of them. He also saw other people paying with plastic cards, and he saw some similar ones in Vince’s wallet, but he isn’t sure how much they’re worth.

His thought process goes much like this for the duration of the ride, with the two men driving along the dark road in silence all the way to Neighbour.

It isn’t until they start passing by buildings that Lucifer finally speaks up again, seeing an open gas station. “Thank you for the ride,” He realises belatedly that he doesn’t know the man’s name, “… sir. I can get out here.”

The man doesn’t stop the car, looking over at his passenger with the warmest smile Lucifer’s seem on him yet. “Are you sure? You look hungry, man. Don’t you want to have dinner at my house before you move on?” Lucifer doesn’t answer right away, brows drawing together in slight confusion. “Come on, it’s cold out here, and my wife has stew waiting at home. She always makes way too much.”

Something pricks at the back of Lucifer’s mind, telling him that there’s something off about this. But for the life of him, he can’t come up with a real reason to turn down an offer of free food. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine on my own. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No, no. I insist.” The young man says firmly, not turning his attention from the road. “At least take some to go, won’t you?”

Against his better judgement, Lucifer acquiesces. “… Sure.” After all, the first two people who helped him out were very kind, what does he have to be so worried about? Just because this guy is a little quieter, doesn’t mean he’s any less friendly.

Mostly satisfied with the justification, Lucifer settles back into his seat, though now his attention is solely on the driver, who has gone back to his stoic silence.

hIt’s not much longer before the man pulls up to a house, and Lucifer notes that he doesn’t have any neighbours. The city is fairly suburban, but this guy lives in a more secluded part of it, on a road with houses and small businesses sporadically placed along it. The next thing Lucifer notices, is that there’s not a garage, or another car parked in the driveway. Nor are any of the lights in the house on, even though it’s only a little after 9pm.

He could still be wrong, but Lucifer starts to doubt the man’s claim of having a wife waiting for him with stew, and immediately puts his mind on full alert. He doesn’t dare say anything to let the man know he suspects anything, just waiting for him to put the car in park and get out, so Lucifer can snatch the keys, throw them into the bushes, and run. (It wouldn’t do to run away only for the man to run him over, or something. And at the same time, if he’s wrong, he doesn’t want to just take the keys with him, and leave the man who gave him a ride here unable to drive his car.

But instead of pulling the keys out of the ignition, like Lucifer expects, the man’s hand darts up, grabs Lucifer’s hair, and slams his head right into the dashboard. While Lucifer’s dazed, he tucks the keys into a pocket and gets out, yanking Lucifer’s door open just as the blonde is recovering.

There’s a knife in his hand, and Lucifer swallows as the point is pressed to his neck. “Get out. Scream, and I’ll slice your throat early.”

Slowly, Lucifer gets out of the car, feeling his heart speed up against his will. He can handle this. He’s just a man, and he’s only got a knife. He’ll take it away from his neck sooner or later, and when he does, Lucifer knows how to disarm him.

The man has obviously done this before, his hand is steady as he keeps the knife pressed against Lucifer’s neck just hard enough not to actually break the skin. If Lucifer wasn’t currently in danger, he’d probably applaud the man for it.

A thought suddenly occurs to him, and Lucifer doesn’t have the self restraint necessary to keep his mouth shut. “So, you ‘hunt ‘hitchhikers, I take it? Easy targets, nobody to look for them, good choice. What, afraid of a challenge?”

The knife is pressed a little more forcefully against his skin. “Shut your damn mouth, you filthy waste of space.”

“ _Ah,_ so you have a grudge against hitchhikers.” Lucifer smiles victoriously as he sees his captor’s expression darken. “Come on, before you kill me, tell me your driving sob-story, won’t you?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit, jackass. What are you, some kind of fuckin’ Psychologist?” The man growls, tightening his grip on the blade and prodding Lucifer to keep moving towards the house. “Degree didn’t work out, left you homeless, in debt up to your neck?”

Lucifer snorts at the idea. “Nah. I never went to school. No degree, no debt. Dad kicked me out of the house a little early for any of that. But enough about me, tell me about you. What’s a poor hitchhiker like me ever done to a strapping young man like you?” He can tell his strategy is working. Don’t show fear, that’s what he wants. If it’s a deep-rooted psychological issue, and Lucifer fits the profile he targets, his goal is to cause fear and to prove that he’s the stronger one. Lucifer’s callous tone and lack of fear is successfully throwing him off, distracting him enough for him to lower the knife almost to Lucifer’s collarbone, where it’s no longer a guaranteed lethal cut.

Lucifer considers attempting to disarm him right then, but he’d still rather wait until his success is more of a guarantee. His heart is beating very fast, and he can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

The serial killer just turns Lucifer around, still keeping the knife close to his neck. “All you people do is take advantage of people’s kindness. You take and take, and give nothing back. You’re a burden on society, and I'm just lightening the load.”

Yeah, this guy is a real piece of work. Lucifer fights the urge to roll his eyes. “So you think you’re some kind of hero? News flash, buddy: Murder doesn’t get you into heaven. I’m pretty sure there’s a commandment for that one. I could be wrong, though, it’s been a while.”

His already-white-knuckled grip on the blade at Lucifer’s throat only tightens at the words, telling Lucifer that he won’t get the reaction he wants by appealing to religion. Or at least, not Christianity. Lucifer switches tactics. “But you don’t _really_ care about any of that. This is personal, right?”

The man doesn’t answer, only adding a painfully tight grip on Lucifer’s arm to the knife at his throat. Using the grip on his arm to gauge a reaction from the serial killer, Lucifer continues talking. “Shy? That’s okay, How about some suggestions? Did one of us hurt you as a kid? Were you robbed? Someone never said ‘thank you’? Maybe it wasn’t you at all, maybe it was your mom?” The grip on his arm tightens, and Lucifer knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Your mom, huh? A hitchhiker took advantage of her? How?”

Quicker than he anticipated the man was capable of, Lucifer is spun around and his back is slammed into the wall besides the front door. The knife is pressed harshly against his jugular once more. “My mother, wonderful woman that she is, offered a man a ride to the city, and invited him home for dinner. They drank, and he went to bed with her. She gave him so much, asked for nothing in return, and he was still gone before morning, skipped town and never talked to her again. He was my father, and he ruined my mother’s life. Now will you _shut up?_ ”

The story makes a few things make more sense, now. Like why he bothers tricking people into coming all the way to his house before he kills them, rather than murdering them on the highway, where their bodies wouldn’t be discovered for a very long time. He wants to recreate how his father was brought to his mother’s home. It’s a ritual.

Not wanting to move his head for fear of accidentally slicing his own throat open, Lucifer merely hums his assent. The serial killer accepts his response, seeming to enjoy the show of submission, regardless of how small it was.

His moment of opportunity comes sooner than Lucifer had expected, as the man moves to open his front door. He has to change which hand is holding the blade, and as he does, Lucifer strikes. His grip on it isn’t strong, making it easy for Lucifer to knock it out of his hands and kick the blade away. The additional second of shock is all Lucifer needs to knee him in the crotch, and then grab his shoulders and throw him to the ground. Lucifer is slightly larger, and he’s able to pin the man down and hold his arms behind his back without too much difficulty. As he does so successfully, Lucifer releases a heavy sigh of relief.

“Kid, you should be more careful with who you corner. I’ve killed way more people than you _ever_ will.” The devil takes a second to gloat a little bit.

The man ceases his squirming for a minute. “You’re… like me?”

He can’t help it. Lucifer laughs. “ _God_ , no. I’m Satan.”

“You’re insane.”

“You know, people keep telling me that, but I don’t see it.” He responds cheerfully, deciding what he’s going to do next. “You’re still pretty new to this, right? Word of advice, the gruff silence-y thing is really fucking suspicious. It’s textbook sociopath behaviour. Talk a little more, and no one will see you coming. Leave a light on inside so they think someone else is home. And for God’s sake, a knife? Could you be more cliché? If you’re not going to get a gun, at least find some way to bind their hands first. _Seriously_.”

“You’re… giving me advice?” The young man sounds utterly perplexed. “You’re not going to kill me?”

“Of course not. You know who I am now. I can’t send you to Hell where you can just blab off about me to any old demon. They might not listen to you, but I’m not going to risk it. I’m going to tie you up, take your keys, and leave. And you’re not going to stop me, and you’re not going to tell the cops, or I’m going to reveal your dirty little secret. Deal?”

“… Deal.” The man sighs, almost spitting out the word like it disgusted him. “If you’re Satan, why don’t you want Hell to know where you are?”

“It’s complicated.” Lucifer huffs angrily, manoeuvring his would-be murderer’s arms so that he can hold them in place with one hand while he pulls his pocket knife out and holds it to the back of the man’s neck. “I’m going to get up, and you’re going to walk with me back to the car. Try anything, and—consequences be damned—I’ll shove this knife through your brain stem. Do I make myself clear?”

The killer nods, and Lucifer proceeds to get off of him, keeping the blade’s tip in contact with the back of the man’s neck all the while. They reach the car without incident, and Lucifer has the man open the passenger door for him, pull out his backpack, and retrieve the zip-ties from it. As soon as the zip-ties are in hand, Lucifer grabs the man’s hair and slams his forehead into the side of the car, effectively knocking him out. The serial killer crumples, and Lucifer huffs with satisfaction, pocketing his knife and massaging his own still-sore nose. “That’s for hitting me, you son of a bitch.”

The unconscious man doesn’t respond.

Sighing tiredly, Lucifer mutters to himself about amateurs and sets about zip-tying the man’s hands together behind his back, and looping another zip-tie around the part of the binding between his hands and then around the car’s door handle. He retrieves the knife (careful to use the sleeves of his hoodie, so as not to leave fingerprints) and leaves it close enough for the man to reach, if he gets creative. He takes the car and house keys from the serial killer’s pockets and drops them into the nearby bushes, not wanting to risk taking them with him and there being some kind of tracking device on one.

He doesn’t stop there, though. Taking out a sharpie, Lucifer leaves a note on the car’s window. “Better luck next time, kiddo. I’m sure you’ll make a killing out there!”

And without further ado, the devil takes his leave, shouldering his backpack and munching on an apple as he departs.

 

• • •

 

It’s not very long (just over an hour or so) before he stops, catching sight of exactly what he’d been intending to find in Detroit. He’s passing by a derelict gas station on his way towards the (more lively) centre of the city, and what does he see, but a car parked in the abandoned lot? It’s nothing special; just a silver ’06 Lexus IS 350 [[like this]](http://www.clublexus.com/forums/attachments/lexus-vehicles-classifieds/217691d1311891815-fs-2006-lexus-is350-dsc01381-small.jpg) (according to the back of the car). It doesn’t stand out (he almost didn’t notice it. He wouldn’t have, if he weren’t actively looking for a car that seemed even only slightly out of place), its windows are all intact, and as he approaches it, it becomes clear that it’s been there a while. There’s dust gathered in edges of the car, the tires look like they’re slowly losing air, and there’s a plastic to-go cup inside that has mould growing on it.

He tries the handle, and as expected, the door is locked. Luckily, he has his pocket knife, which has a few additional options on it. What looks like a screwdriver does the trick, and he manages to pick the lock open.

The door opens just fine once he does, and he smiles to himself at this sudden run of good luck. (It seems good things _do_ happen to bad people.) The first thing he does once inside is take the cup out and toss it into a trash can at one of the gas pumps. The contents of it smell rancid, and he has to hold his breath as he rids himself of the detested thing. He hopes the whole car doesn’t smell that way.

Of course, he’s not that lucky. He never is.

However, this car is pretty much perfect in every way that really matters, so he’ll put up with it.

The keys were even left on the console, which he assumes is why the car was abandoned in the first place. Whoever it belonged to must’ve been locked out and was unable to get new keys or have it unlocked. Whatever the story was, the car is his now.

Now he has a car, the keys to it, and the gauge says there's still fuel in the engine.

… Now he just needs to figure out how to turn the damn thing on.

Staring blankly at all the dials, buttons, and levers in front of him, Lucifer decides that this is a task better suited for the light of morning, and simply rolls down the front windows enough so that the air can circulate during the night, re-locks the doors, and then climbs into the backseat to get some well-deserved rest.

Pleased with all he’s achieved today, (it’s certainly been more productive than the previous day,) Lucifer takes a little while to ‘decorate’ his arms with Enochian and Infernal protection wards, now that he finally has a moment of privacy to do so. He learns quickly that he needs to wait for the ink to settle into his skin a bit, otherwise it will smudge at the slightest rubbing. (“Permanent ink my-ass.” He grumbles to himself after this discovery.) He also adds finding some way to remove ‘permanent’ marker ink from skin to the top of his to-do list, just in case the smudging issue persists.

Strangely enough (though he’s not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth), there is actually a fleece blanket in the backseat, and Lucifer can’t believe his streak of luck right now. There has to be a catch to all this, right? There’s no chance that Dad just decided to cut him a break and give him this one, right?

As he begins to drift off to sleep, using his hoodie as a pillow and the blanket to keep warm, Lucifer allows his mind to wander.

No, Dad probably doesn’t even know he’s still alive, or if he does, he must not care all too much. He’s too busy frolicking somewhere with the one thing in creation Lucifer knows he can never hold a candle to in God’s heart. Everything was so much simpler when good and bad were clear-cut. God is good. Amara is bad. Light is good. Darkness is bad. Angels serve God, so angels are good. Leviathan serve no one, so they’re bad.

But then He had to throw humans into the mix, and what was Lucifer supposed to make of them? They serve no one but themselves, but they Look up to God, so are they like Leviathan or angels? They’re neither light nor dark, so what is he to infer from that? And then before Lucifer could come up with his own judgements of them, he’s told to love them over God. Ordered to. But serving and loving God above all is good, so to not do so would be bad, right?

Nothing made any sense, and thinking it was some kind of test of his love for God, Lucifer refused to bow to these undefined, strange things.

He was punished for it, and then he was deemed bad.

He loved God, but he was still deigned a creature of evil. He radiates light, and yet is equated with darkness. Thinking maybe the humans—strange and undefined as they were—could explain it to him, he convinced Eve to eat the fruit of knowledge, so she might be able to tell him what makes something good, and what makes something bad.

They were ordered not to eat of it, but Lucifer was ordered to Love God, and he was punished for following that order, so how was he to know which orders are meant to be followed, and which are okay to break? He knew the fruit would not cause her immediate death, so he told her so.

He probably should have just eaten it himself, for all the trouble that action caused him. Eve didn’t have an answer for him anyways. She became overwhelmed with other matters far too quickly.

Cast into hell for his actions, essentially trapped there for all he could do with useless, broken wings, Lucifer finally learned hatred. There, in the punishing flames that cut through even _his_ natural aura of cold, Lucifer began to hate. He never completely lost his love, but his hatred grew until he nearly despised and adored God in equal measures. It grew and grew, and he began to hate humans too, deeming them to be the cause of all his suffering. If it weren’t for them, things would still be simple. He never would have known pain, hate, or anger. Good would be good, and bad would be bad.

With his hatred, he twisted the lone soul he shared this fiery coffin with, and thus demonkind was borne of Lilith.

But he was not content with just this one. No, as soon as he was able, Lucifer whispered in the ears of the humans on the surface, tempting their souls, seducing their flesh, and seeding doubt in their minds. That is, until he drew Abel’s attention. He really shouldn’t have shared the mark with Cain, but he wanted so badly for someone to understand his suffering, he couldn’t resist. Their story had many similarities to his own, Abel standing for humanity, and Cain resembling him. Despite how hardened his heart had become over the years, Lucifer felt for the struggling human. He offered Cain a choice, thinking that Cain would choose himself over the little brother who did no more than he, and still received love and praise beyond his accomplishments. Cain chose to save his little brother from Lucifer, and killed him to do so. Either way, Lucifer would have won. It didn’t make him feel any better.

None of it ever made him feel better. There was a void within him, a hole that the love of his Father and siblings used to fill, and while the anger and rage were effective distractions, that’s all they were. Distractions. Meaningless distractions that did absolutely nothing in the long run to fill the emptiness eating away at him.

The only thing since falling that did _anything_ to refill that hole, was agreeing to fight Amara again. To be close to his Father once more, and to even get an _apology_ from Him. To feel the warmth of his power washing over Lucifer, knitting up the damage Amara had done to him. To be accepted as an ally in Heaven once more, even if it was only because Castiel convinced them to do so for the greater good. It didn’t completely fill his void, but it helped. Having his father back filled a blank that had been there so long, he forgot how good it felt to have something there. For a little while, things started to feel _right_ again. He had a purpose, and he was more than happy to aide his father against the darkness once more.

Things were straightforward once again. God is good, Amara is bad. Lucifer serves God in the fight against her, so Lucifer is good now, too. All is right once more.

He thought…

He thought that if he did this, and they won (and why wouldn’t they? Good always triumphs over evil… right?), maybe things could return to normal. Or something close. Maybe, just maybe, he can go back home.

Maybe they can get Michael back, and Father can tell him that they needn’t fight one another.

Maybe, with time, they can even get Gabriel back, and Lucifer can apologise to the only being he feels is truly deserving of one from him.

Maybe.

But none of those hopes matter now. They lost. Badly.

Lucifer was left so injured that he had to abandon Castiel. If he had stayed even a second longer, he might not have survived her attack. Thankfully, she did not pursue him.

No, she mortally wounded God and then fled. Lucifer was convinced that this was to be the end. The universe would cease to exist, and no one would be able to stop it.

But that didn't happen either. No, Amara… healed her brother. All that fuss, and she didn't actually kill him. And then they ran off into the sunset together.

And for all he said, all the promises he made, God abandoned him— _them—_ again. God apologised for leaving, sure, but he followed that right up with ditching the world all over again.

And on top of that, everything became unclear again. Amara, the darkness, the one thing that no matter what, has _always_ been evil, is no longer so? She and God are suddenly equals, and everything is just going to be forgotten between them so they can frolic together somewhere?

‘What about me?’ Lucifer wants to ask. What about His favourite? Or was all that just another lie that God told him because he thought it’s what Lucifer wanted to hear? Was it just another fabrication to keep Lucifer in line?

Lucifer doesn't know the answer to that, and he finds he’d prefer not to know anyways. He’s thinking about this far too much, and it's all irrelevant right now anyways. He’s got a bigger problem to deal with for the foreseeable future, so he turns onto his other side, and settles down to sleep.


	2. Lucifer makes a friend

Lucifer awakens with the sun, a little disgruntled to be roused from his dream, even though he can't remember a thing about it. Just that it was vaguely good, and that it had _something_ to do with a fiddle…

Well, he survived through another night. Lucifer: 2, Universe: 0.

The first thing he notices as he lays there, slowly waking up and blinking the sleep from his eyes, is that it’s very cold. Much colder than it had been when he fell asleep. The second thing he notices is the young man peering at him from the passenger seat.

Lucifer goes from half-asleep to wide awake and on high alert in the span of a second. He jumps a little bit in surprise, reaching for his pocketknife. The young man looks almost apologetic, but not scared in the slightest at the sight of the small weapon.

“Who are you?” Lucifer demands, gripping the blade tighter. “ _What_ are you?”

The young man with short black hair raises his hands slightly, as if to say he’s not looking for a fight, or that he surrenders. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? This is _my_ car.”

“ _Your_ car? It looked abandoned to me, kid.” He growls back, frankly unnerved that this person was not only able to get into the car without waking him up, but also looked completely unworried by the threat of his (albeit small) knife.

His response made the young man look a little sad. “Yeah, I don’t know where my mom went. I’ve been stuck here since February of 2014.” He looks down for a second, then seems to shake himself out of it, forcing a smile back to his face. “But you can help me find her! I saw you drawing wards on your arms, so you must be a hunter or something, right?”

This is bizarre. Really bizarre. Lucifer is half-tempted to just slit the kid’s throat and leave with the car, but he has a strong feeling that that plan won’t work. He keeps his grip on the knife anyways, though. “Or _something_ … What do you need a hunter for?”

“Well, really anyone who knows about demons and angels and ghosts and stuff would do.” Ha. Well, Lucifer certainly knows more than the average person about all those things. “You’re not a hunter? Then what _are_ you?”

“I believe I asked you first.” Deciding that this didn’t need to be violent, as the young man obviously had no intention to attack him, Lucifer folds up his knife.

“Nuh-uh. It’s _my_ car, I ask the questions, pal.” The boy retorts, very matter-of-factly.

Weighing his options, Lucifer eventually sighs, deciding that this argument isn’t worth his time. “I was an angel. Obviously, I’m not anymore. Your turn.”

The young man with short, black hair and distinctly Asian features offers him a smile as he answers. “I’m Kevin Tran. I died, so now I’m a ghost. Your turn! Why aren’t you an angel anymore?” Ah, he’s a ghost. That explains how he got in the car.

As if he’s going to start telling his life story to this kid. “My grace was taken from me. You don’t seem like a vengeful spirit, so why are you here?”

Kevin seems to be a little more trusting as he answers, but he can probably afford to be. The benefits of already being dead, Lucifer muses. “I’m stuck here because Heaven was locked up by that transformer angel. You know, the one whose name sounds like the bad guy? Megatron?”

“Metatron?”

“Yeah, him! But you probably know all about that. So your grace was stolen? How’d that happen?”

Actually, he doesn’t know all about that. He was a little… distracted. Lucifer has to admit that he’s surprised that this ghost knows enough about angel grace to not ask what it is, and he’s suddenly glad that he didn’t try to attack the kid with a decidedly ineffective weapon against ghosts. He should really get some iron. How did he overlook that? “… A witch took it from me. I intend to get it back. How do you know Metatron? And about grace?”

Speaking of Metatron, if the whelp wasn’t already dead, Lucifer would’ve liked to get his hands on him. _He’s_ the one who put heaven on lockdown and made all the other angels fall? How _dare_ he? Lucifer hopes the traitorous scribe died painfully. (Even if he did so whilst rescuing Lucifer.)

“Oh, uh.” Kevin straightens up importantly. “I was a prophet—”

“Prophet, huh? Now, you really should have lead with _that,_ kid.”

“Shut up, I’m not done.” The ex-prophet huffs. “I was a prophet, and I helped translate the demon and angel tablets. Metadouche had me killed before I could figure out a way to reverse his spell. What’s your name?”

Deciding that it’s probably not a good idea to tell an ex-prophet ghost that he’s Satan while he doesn’t have any iron, Lucifer just says the next thing that comes to mind. “Heylel, but you may call me Lou.” Heylel. Now _that’s_ a name he hasn’t gone by in a very long time. **{Heylel [** **ללי** **ה** **] is pronounced Hey•lay•el, and means Star of the Morning, king of Babylon, and Satan. It is mentioned once in the Old Testament, in**[ **Isaiah 14:12**](http://www.biblestudytools.com/nas/isaiah/14-12.html) **, and refers to Lucifer’s fall. I thought the name choice appropriate, because the verse speaks of how he has fallen, and has been “cut down to the earth”.}**

“How do you get Lou from Heylel?” Kevin asks him, brow raised.

“Carefully.” Lucifer deadpans.

“I feel like I’ve heard your name before somewhere…” The once-prophet comments thoughtfully, shaking his head. “Anyways, this is perfect. You can help me find out what happened to my mom, and I can help you get your grace back. Can’t hurt to have a ghost on your side, right?”

This is a little much all at once, even for Lucifer. He just woke up, damnit. “Wait, let me get this straight.” Lucifer pulls himself into a more awake-looking position. “So, you want me to what, find your mom? Who’s been missing since…”

“February of 2014.”

“Right. 2014. And it’s what, October of 2016 now? Your mom’s been missing for over two years, kid. How am I supposed to find her?” The devil fixes Kevin with a critical stare. “And if I did help you, what exactly would you be able to do for me? You said you’re trapped in this car.”

“There’s a little thing called the _internet_.” The ghost starts, patiently. “If she’s… If she’s dead, you should be able to find her obituary that way.” He pauses for a second. “If not, given your supply bag, you’re a pretty resourceful guy. I’m sure you’ll figure something out, and I’ll help you in any way I can. As for being stuck in this car, that’s just because she left my dad’s ring behind. I’m attached to that, not the car. You can take me wherever you need, and I’ll help you however I can. Given all the warding you were drawing on yourself… are there people after you? Like that witch?”

Lucifer nods, finding himself liking this idea more and more, especially since the kid isn’t tied solely to this car. “Yes, and worse. Her son is the king of hell, and he… doesn’t like me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Wait, Crowley?” Kevin’s eyes widen at Lucifer’s words. “He has a mother?”

The fallen angel nods again. “You’ve met him?”

“You could say that. Crowley kidnapped me, and my mother.” The ghost’s gaze narrows at empty space. “He’s a monster. Any enemy of his is a friend of mine, Heylel. I’ll gladly help you fight him, if it comes to that.” It might just be Lucifer’s imagination, but it feels like the temperature in the car drops a few degrees. Kevin might be a vengeful spirit after all, just a dormant one—for now.

There’s silence between them for a moment as Lucifer weighs his options. On the one hand, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to find this kid’s mom, but on the other, does he really have time to find another car and risk being found by an angel or demon while he’s nearly defenceless?

Kevin speaks up after a little while, growing impatient. “So what do you say, Heylel? First we find my mother, and then we’ll get your grace back?”

The once archangel releases a soft sigh. “… sounds good to me, Kevin Tran.” He puts out his hand, which the ghost grabs, sending chills up his arm. “Partners?”

“Partners.” Kevin replies agreeably, a bright smile breaking out across his face. “ _Finally,_ I can get out of this damned place. Do you have any idea how much it _sucks_ to be trapped in a small, smelly car for two whole years?”

Smiling to himself, Lucifer climbs back into the front seat and fishes through his bag for the other sandwich he bought. The cold weather kept it mostly safe to eat, though it had gotten a little smushed. “I understand that better than you might know, child.” Lucifer answers cryptically, turning his attention back to the many dials and button and levers on the dashboard in front of him.

“I’m not a child, you know. I’ll be 21 in a couple months.” The ghost pouts, disappearing and reappearing in the now-empty passenger seat. “Or would be, if I was still alive.”

Lucifer snorts. “And I’m hundreds of billions of years old, Kevin. Even the eldest of your kind are still infants by comparison. But if you see the term as an insult, I’ll try to refrain from using it.”

“I do.” The ex-prophet watches as ‘Lou’ tries to figure out the car’s mechanics. “So yes, stop please. And what do you prefer I call you? Heylel, or Lou?”

Lucifer almost shoots back ‘I'd prefer you didn’t talk to me at all’, but refrains from actually doing that by literally biting his own tongue. He’d rather not piss off the ghost that he may or may not be spending quite a lot of time with for the foreseeable future. “I’ll make an honest effort. No promises though, ki—evin.”

“Nice save.” The ghost huffs out, apparently amused.

Lucifer smiles a little to himself. At least the kid has a half-decent sense of humour. “And I have no preference. Either is fine.”

“I’ll just call you Heylel then.” Kevin makes the keys on the console jingle gently. “You’re going to need those, first. Have you ever driven a car before?”

“Nope, this is my first time.” ‘Heylel’ responds jauntily. “I’ve never needed to before.”

When he didn’t hear an answer right away, Lucifer looked over to Kevin, only to see no one there. His brow furrows in confusion, looking around the car for the ghost. “… Kevin?”

Not sure what just happened, but not wanting to wait on someone who might not even be there anymore, Lucifer shakes his head and inspects the keys. This part is easy enough. All he has to do is stick the key into the keyhole, right?

As expected, this works. He turns the key, and with a kind of ‘coughing’ sound, the engine turns over, and all the dials and various buttons on the dashboard light up with a red-orange glow.

Now, for the hard part. (Pretty much only because he has no fucking clue what _any_ of these controls actually _do…_ ) He tries to call up all that he can remember from the various vessels whose memories he foolishly ignored. He suddenly wishes that he’d taken the Winchesters up on their various offers to drive him back to the Bunker with them when they thought he was Castiel.

Hands on the wheel, that much he remembers. There are two pedals on the ground by his feet, and he’s not really sure which does what. He _thinks_ one or both of them stops the car, as he vaguely recalls Sam stepping down on something in a panic when Amara appeared in front of their car. He was kind of panicking too though, so he doesn’t fully trust that memory.

Sam also did something with the rod protruding out of the console, causing the car to change which direction it drove in. But again, Lucifer doesn’t _really_ trust that memory. There are letters by it, and he somehow knows what they stand for. He assumes it’s something all his most recent vessels have memorised so thoroughly, it just bled through. “Park, Reverse, Neutral, Drive, Low…” he says quietly to himself, looking at the automatic transmission.

Lucifer blinks, wondering where that name came from.

“I’m back!” Kevin returns to the car with a shout, causing Lucifer to nearly jump out of his skin. He flickers in and out a few more times, and then settles, looking solid once more. He grins at the once-angel in the driver’s seat, seemingly amused by the way Lucifer had his hand to his heart. “Awww, did I scare you?”

Lucifer quickly regains his composure, scowling at the cheeky ghost. “Of course not. Where’d you go?”

Kevin’s grin fades a little. “Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t really belong here, so I sometimes kinda… slip, I guess? I can actually go to Heaven _now_ , if I wanted to. The big man himself sent me on my way. But I want to know what happened to my Mom, so I found a way to stick around.”

“Wait wait wait.” Lucifer’s full attention is now in the ghost. “The big man? You mean God?” At Kevin’s nod of affirmation, Lucifer lets loose an irritated huff. “Seems like He’s helping out everyone and their dog, lately. Can’t be bothered to give me a leg up, though. Figures.” The once-angel curses under his breath, fighting to keep his anger in check. His knuckles go white with the tightness of his grip.

Kevin reaches over to put a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. It causes Lucifer to shiver from the sudden cold, but the intention behind the gesture is understood. “I’m sorry your dad abandoned you. I don’t know why He left, but look at it this way, Heylel. You’re still alive and kicking, right? Maybe He’s not helping you because He knows you’re doing fine on your own.”

“But _why_? Why would he put me through this when all it would take is a snap of his fingers, and I’d be whole again?”

“I think, because… that’s not the point. I asked myself that same question so many times while I was alone here, waiting for someone who could help me to come. And then He dragged me away to send me to Heaven, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise before He let me move on. I just wanted to ask him if my Mom was okay, but I didn’t get to. But now, you’re here, and I can help you, and you can help me.” Kevin pauses, seeming to be choosing his words very carefully. “I think the point is that we need to help each other. If He fixes all our problems, we don’t learn anything. He kicked off our world, but I don’t think He created it so He could rule over it all, or play the maintenance man. I think He just wants to watch us grow on our own, to see what we do with what we’re given, and if we can fix our own problems.”

Lucifer’s heard this argument before, but never in such a kind, thoughtful tone. It must be because Kevin doesn’t know who he _really_ is. Most people making this argument are making it to _Lucifer_ , Lord of Hell, Ender of Days, the Dragon, the Adversary, Father of Sin, Satan, Evil Incarnate. Kevin is just trying to comfort someone he sees as an ally. So, for once, Lucifer humours the human and considers his argument. It’s really not so unreasonable; Dad always was pretty eccentric. Lucifer just really, _really_ hates the thought that there’s not an actual plan. That everything is just to be left to _chance_.

Unfortunately, ‘not liking’ the possibility isn’t a viable excuse for not accepting, or even considering it. At least, not for the person Kevin most likely thinks he is. “… You could be right, though I’ve always wanted to believe that my Father’s goals were less asinine than that.” He speaks, in a somewhat subdued tone. It hurts, even admitting that a human _might_ be right. “Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. He’s not going to help either of us, so we’ll have to help each other, like you said.”

Upon this agreement, Kevin nods to him. “Yeah, exactly. Let’s start with driving the car. I never got my license before I got caught up with being a prophet, but I passed the written test and I got my permit, so I can totally drive. Tell me what you already know and we’ll go from there.”

 

• • •

 

The last day of Lucifer’s ‘head start’ consisted mainly of learning how to drive and carving wards into the car. Both were exhausting in their own way, so he found trading off back and forth to be more productive. (Learning to drive being mentally, and carving wards into plastic and metal [not to mention stripping off the fabrics and leather] being physically tiring.)

Of course, he had to take a few breaks to find food again, which was good practice for his driving. He bought a pair of sunglasses and another shirt at Goodwill, and managed to get ahold of some holy oil, which was (surprisingly) sold at a Hallmark store. He found it there completely by chance, actually. He had to relieve himself while practicing driving around town, and Kevin suggested he stop at the nearest store, informing him of the existence of public restrooms. Lucifer honestly expected it to be a lot nastier than it was, but all things considered, it wasn’t so bad. And he caught sight of the oil on his way back out, so it ended up being more productive than he’d thought.

It was a simple matter to scorch the sunglasses with holy fire, and then Lucifer was able to see the true faces of any demons, as well as any hellhounds that he came across. Luckily, he didn’t see any in his vicinity, but it was nice to have something close to his true-sight back. Unfortunately, all the warding he’d put on the car now appeared to be glowing faintly, which was very distracting, so he decided against wearing them while driving.

By sunset, he had all the most essential warding on the car, he’d picked up on all the basics of driving, and he’d added a significant amount of the necessities to his supplies. He stocked up on water bottles, granola bars and a few other things he could get cheaply and in abundance, that would last him for a good, long while. He got himself a necklace chain, too, so he can keep Kevin’s ring hanging around his neck. It was too big to stay securely on his finger, and he’d rather not risk it falling out of his pocket.

He’s really glad that he got most of that done early on, because as he was looking for a good place to park for the night, he saw a couple demons walking through the street, and found himself very glad that his warding rendered him essentially invisible to them. He had to turn off his headlights though, because no amount of warding would hide those. They passed him by without sparing his car a single glance. He pulled into a motel parking lot, deciding to blend in there for the night and sleep in the back seat again.

Of course, he couldn’t be certain, but he’d bet just about anything that Crowley knew of his situation now, and those demons were ordered to look for him. Kevin wished him a good night and settled himself in the passenger seat, saying that he’d keep watch.

Lucifer found himself exhausted, but unable to sleep. He stared up at the roof of the car, hoodie rolled up under his head and newly-bought blanket draped mostly over his legs, thinking. Worrying is probably a more accurate term. What if he comes across a demon when he’s out getting food, or buying something, or relieving himself? Will they recognise him? They must have a physical description, but will a hoodie and sunglasses be enough to obscure that? Will they be able to see the bare traces of his grace? Will carrying Kevin’s soul, attached to the ring, be enough to obscure his lack of one?

He can prepare and prepare all he wants, but will anything really be enough to fight off a demon—or multiple demons—if he gets unlucky? He’s safe in this car, at least, but that’s a very small area. Is he to spend the rest of his relatively short life in this place? Able to travel places, but only look at them, lest he leave the safety of this vehicle and lose his life for it… Every time he needs to so much as eat, he’s risking his life.

He’s trapped. He’s gone from one cage, straight to another. His freedom is merely an illusion, showing him everything he can’t have.

Lucifer’s breathing shallows, quickening with his heart rate. He shuts his eyes, but that’s worse, because all he sees is black, endless blackness. The walls of his cage closing in, confining him, keeping him their prisoner.

It’s cold, but that’s not why he shudders uncontrollably. He can’t see the car anymore, though his eyes are open. All he sees is the walls of his cage, taunting him, keeping him contained, dark and unforgiving. The cold turns to tongues of fire, licking at his arms and wings unpredictably. He thinks he’s calling out for freedom, but he can’t hear himself.

All he can think about is how he’s trapped, and he’ll always _be_ trapped.

Kevin’s voice cuts through his panicked nightmare, and he clings to it, pulling himself out of… out of whatever it was that had just happened.

He didn’t fall asleep, he’s sure of that much. He’s still very much awake.

He can see the roof of the car again, and his first instinct is to shoot upright, and push the car door open. He fumbles with it for a second, the panic rising again until he gets it unlocked and tumbles out of the car, gasping for fresh, cold air. Kevin’s ring bounces out from under his shirt, and he holds onto it, the warm metal grounding him for the moment.

The world swims around him for a minute, and he feels vaguely like he’s just been half-drowned in freezing-cold water. Kevin’s talking to him, but he isn’t comprehending any of it, and doesn’t until he gets his breathing back to a normal pace.

Eventually, he gets himself back down to normal, and he finally starts to put together what Kevin’s saying to him. He’s speaking fluent Enochian, strangely enough. Lucifer figures he probably shouldn’t really be surprised. Kevin _was_ a prophet, after all. That usually comes with the gig. “… not trapped, Heylel, listen to me. Calm down, you’re okay. You’re not in a cage, you’re here, you’re on Earth. Neighbour, Michigan, in our car, remember?”

Lucifer finally looks up from the ground, finding Kevin kneeling in front of him, hands on his shoulders. Huh, that must be why he’s so cold. “I’m…” Kevin shuts up as he starts to respond, still in enochian, and Lucifer finds himself unsure of what _to_ say. He doesn’t know what just happened to him, so how is he supposed to explain it to this almost-total stranger? “I’m okay now… I… I don’t know what came over me…” He crosses his legs under himself Indian style, and wraps one arm around himself—still holding Kevin’s ring in his other hand.

“Were you having a nightmare? You were acting like you thought you were somewhere else… You said something about a cage?” Kevin takes his hands back, seeing the frost starting to form on Lucifer’s shoulders.

The Cage. Lucifer’s shudder has nothing to do with the cold. So he must have said all those things out loud. He tries to think back and find out how much he had given away. Probably not a whole lot, as it had mostly been incoherent shouts for freedom, but Kevin’s curiosity must be spiked. He swallows, not sure how to respond for a moment. “No… I was awake, I think. I… It was dark, and I was reminded of… of somewhere else. I’d rather not talk about it.”

Kevin looks thoughtful, considering the ex-angel in front of him. “Okay, but let me ask you a few more questions, I might know what happened to you.”

“… Alright. But, inside.” Lucifer gets up somewhat shakily, climbing back inside of the car. The fresh air had helped him calm down, and the fact that nothing bad had happened while he was outside helped him gain some peace of mind.

Kevin nods, waiting until he’s settled to pop in next to him. “That other place you mentioned… did you think you were actually there?” Lucifer nods, so he continues. “Does it scare you?”

Lucifer is reluctant to admit it, but if he’s to find out what’s afflicting him, he should be honest. “It does.”

“What exactly reminded you of that place? Did you feel a certain way? Or was it just the dark?”

He has to think a bit about that one, because his first instinct is to say that it was small and dark, but he slept just fine last night, and this didn’t happen. Eventually, he comes up with the answer. “I… felt trapped.”

Kevin nods, like this confirms something for him. “I… I think you had a flashback. It’s common for people who experienced something traumatic, and then are reminded of that thing in some way. I guess angels don’t really have this problem, but now you’re human. I think you might have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“What does that mean? Am I sick?”

“No, not exactly…” Kevin frowns, trying to think of a good way to explain. “It’s more like a wound than a sickness. You were hurt, and you have to heal before the wound goes away. But if you poke at the wound and irritate it—or in this case, get into situations that make you feel trapped—it won’t heal. My grandpa was in Vietnam, and he had flashbacks to the war sometimes when he heard loud noises. He lived with my mom and I until he died because his psychologist recommended that he spend time with people he loved, and people he could talk to about the war freely with. It helped him a lot, I think. He said we made him feel happy. After a few years, he hardly ever had flashbacks. Do you have any family, or friends you can talk to?”

Lucifer’s heart quietly sinks, after hearing that even with loving family around him, Kevin’s grandfather was still afflicted for years. After a while, he shakes his head. “… I don’t have any friends.”

“What about the other angels?”

Again, he shakes his head. “They wouldn’t help.”

The ghost is quiet for a minute, and then puts his hand over Lucifer’s. “Well, I’ll be your friend. So there, you’ve got one now.”

Lucifer laughs quietly, finally smiling a little. Kevin probably wouldn’t be so willing to extend his friendship if he knew who Lucifer _actually_ is. “Thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s eyes shoot up to the smiling ghost at that, his heart skipping a beat. “How…?”

“I guessed right? Huh, what’re the odds.”

That takes a moment to register, and then Lucifer narrows his eyes. “You—”

“Figured out who you are and tricked you into confirming it? Yep. I _knew_ I’d heard Heylel somewhere before, and then your flashback connected the dots for me. I mean, you _had_ to be someone important if Crowley’s after you, and who _else_ would fit that description and had been caged? I guess Michael would, but you didn’t seem like the ‘Michael’ type.”

Lucifer flounders for a moment, kind of frustrated with himself for being so obvious. Eventually he just accepts that he’s been found out, smiles again, and settles for a more sarcastic response. “Damn _right_ I don’t.”

Kevin smiles at that, amused by Lucifer.

The ex-archangel’s smile fades after a bit though, getting more serious. “If you want me to leave, I understand.”

Immediately, the ghost shakes his head. “No way, man. Like I said before, any enemy of Crowley’s is a friend of mine. And that includes you. Anyways, you’re still going to help me find my mom, right?”

Surprised, Lucifer nods his head. “I don’t break my promises.” The Devil can’t say he’s ever been so glad to be wrong.

“Then we’re still good. I mean, things haven’t been looking apocalyptic lately, so I’m guessing that’s not what you were up to after getting out of the cage, and you don’t seem like such a bad guy, even if you did kinda lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie.” Lucifer protests. “I mislead you. Heylel _is_ my name. Or, one of them.”

“Hence, the ‘kinda’. Misleading isn’t really any better, dude. But I get why you maybe wouldn’t want to tell a spooky ghost that you’re Satan, so it’s cool.”

At that, Lucifer snorts. “I’m sorry, spooky? You give yourself too much credit, Kevin.”

The ghost grins infuriatingly. He’s actually starting to glow. “If I’m not spooky, why do you jump _every_ time I pop back into existence?”

“I do _not._ ”

“Pfft.” Kevin pops from the back seat and back to the passenger seat. The sudden disappearance and reappearance causes Lucifer to jump, and Kevin laughs. “Do too. Go to sleep, scaredy-cat. I’ll wake you up if there’s anything _really_ spooky.”

Lucifer wants to argue, but he really is exhausted, especially after his flashback. He almost forgot about it for a minute, and he has to wonder if Kevin brought up his name for that very reason. If he did, it was a genius move. Lucifer was effectively distracted, and after the friendly back-and forth with Kevin, he felt a lot more at ease. His shoulders relax a little, and his smile grows a bit more, amused by his own jumpiness.

“Fine, fine. Whatever. Good night.” Lucifer shakes his head slightly, laying back down in the backseat, and rolling his hoodie back up to use as a pillow.

Kevin glows faintly from the passenger seat, casting a soft light across the car’s interior. “Sleep tight, Heylel.”

Lucifer hums in response, closing his eyes and attempting to fall asleep. He’s had one hell of a day. He lays awake for a little longer, but thankfully doesn’t feel trapped this time. No, having Kevin nearby, glowing gently, helps him firmly distinguish this from the cage. That, and knowing that even though Kevin knows who he is, he hasn’t attacked or abandoned him, makes Lucifer feel… safe. There’s one massive difference between the cage and this place. In the cage, he was alone, and he was hurt over and over, for eternity. Here, he has a friend, and he’s safe.

As he feels sleep start to overtake him, he mumbles one last thing. “Thank you, Kevin.” He doesn’t hear Kevin’s response, as he promptly passes out.

 

• • •

 

**Montage time!** _There’s gonna be a time skip between this chapter and the next, and I don’t want to end on yet another depressing note, so I’ll fill the end of this chapter with snippets of Lucifer and Kevin bro-ing it out, since I don’t intend to write any of it out in detail. Enjoy this wholesome bromance that I think about wayyyy too much._

Day 4 _(since becoming human)_

Lucifer woke up with a crick in his neck. Another day, not dead.

Lucifer: 3, Universe: 0.

[✝]

“Kevin, do you actually know where we’re going?”

“Yeah, dude. It’s right around the corner.”

“You said that about the last three corners.”

“Okay, so it’s been a while. I know we’re close though. Trust me.”

With a sigh, Lucifer kept driving.

[✝]

Lucifer feels like he’s been driving in circles all day. He’d be more annoyed, but he’s a little distracted with how hungry he’s getting. He’s just about to pull over and get out some granola bars, because this water bottle isn’t doing it for him.

“Heylel, they opened up a Pho place! You have to try it!”

“What part of ‘fugitive’ don’t you understand?”

“So what, you can’t go out to eat at all? I had to hide from Crowley before too, and that didn’t stop me from getting a decent meal every now and then.”

“I’m not interested in things I don’t _need_.”

“C’mon man, just try it. I _promise_ you’ll like it.”

“If I do, will you shut up?”

“Totally.”

Lucifer’s stomach growls at him. “Fine. Pho place it is.”

[✝]

“You’re never picking where I eat again.”

“Oh, come _on._ How was I supposed to know all the waiters were demons?”

“Don’t. Just don’t, Kevin.”

[✝]

After driving around for several hours, following directions from an extremely forgetful ghost, they finally pulled up in front of a building Lucifer swears they’ve driven past at least twice. “Okay, we found the library, now what?”

“You just go in. We can use the computers inside.”

“… I thought libraries were for books.”

“Oh boy. I mean, yeah, but this is the 21st century, dude. There are computers too, mostly for finding the right books.”

“… Right.”

“You don’t know how to use a computer, do you?”

“Not a clue.”

“Dude.”

[✝]

“Come on, Heylel. This is _not_ that hard to understand.”

“Give me a break. It’s not exactly like I had WiFi in the Cage.”

“You know what WiFi is, but not how to use a computer?”

“Well. Duh. I’ve used a smartphone.”

“Alright, what did you use it for?”

“Uh, texting. And calling people. And Angry Birds.”

“Anything else?”

“… Candy Crush?”

Kevin rubs his temple. “Well, I guess that’s a start?”

[✝]

Day 5

Lucifer cracks open his eyes as sunlight filters through his eyelids, to find who else but _Kevin_ , less than an inch from his face. He jolts awake, his face passing right through Kevin’s frigid one as he jumps to alertness.

It feels like he’s just fallen under the ice of a frozen lake.

Ohhhh, Christ, he’s well awake now.

Hugging himself to keep warm and rubbing his now _frozen_ nose, Lucifer glowers at the whole-heartedly amused ghost. “h-h-hilarious. F-Fuck you, Kevin.”

[✝]

“No.” Lucifer shakes his head, not even letting the ghost finish.

“Yes.”

“ _No._ ”

“ _Yes!”_

“ _No!”_

_“YES!”_

_“YES!”_

_“NO!”_

Lucifer smiles smugly. “Good, we agree.”

Kevin blinks, frowning. “… Cheater.”

[✝]

Day 6

He thinks he was dreaming about Goats. Lucifer hates goats.

Another crappy morning, another day beating the odds. Lucifer: 5, Universe: 0.

[✝]

“Do you ever shut up?”

“I’ve been alone for two years. I’ve got a lot to say.”

“I was alone for _six billion_ years. You’re not special.”

“Point. _But…”_

[✝]

“It’s not starting.”

“I can _see_ that.”

“Why isn’t it starting?”

“If I knew that, do you think I’d be sitting here pressing buttons?”

“Do you have Gas?”

“I’ve still got half a tank left.”

Then why isn’t it starting?”

“I don’t _know_ , Kevin!”

“… Maybe it’s just the cold,” the ghost suggests hopefully.

“Can that keep a car from starting?”

“I think so?”

“… do you think you can… I don’t know, haunt the engine to jumpstart it or something?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I can try…”

Kevin goes invisible, and a few seconds later, as the car restarts with a roar, Lucifer cheers out loud.

[✝]

“Stop staring at me.”

“Why?”

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re staring at me. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“I’m not staring at you. I’m staring at the blanket.”

“… And _why_ are you staring at it?”

“Well. It’s just, my grandpa died in that blanket.”

Lucifer bolts upright. “What?”

Kevin snickers, falling backwards onto his butt. “Dude, your face. You totally fell for that one.”

“… Go haunt a ditch, Kevin.”

[✝]

Day 7

“Lucifer, Lucifer get up. Look, outside.”

Lucifer jerks awake, his dream slipping away from him and being replaced by the cold claws of fear. He looks where Kevin’s pointing, reaching for his sunglasses.

“See him?”

Lucifer lowers the sunglasses, rubs his tired eyes, and looks again. “… No. what am I looking at?”

“The dog, Lucifer.”

“There’s no hellhound there.”

“No, the _puppy_.”

Upon closer inspection, he sees what Kevin’s talking about. A small, completely normal Shepherd-Collie mix puppy, sniffing around in the bushes outside. Lucifer releases a low, long-suffering groan. “You woke me up, over a _puppy_?”

“Isn’t he cute? We should take him with us.”

“No. Now let me get some God-damned sleep.”

“You’re gonna leave a puppy out in the cold, where he could die? You really _are_ evil.”

“Thank you.”

“Dude, cold. Come on, at least let him sleep in here.”

“I’m not above throwing your ring out there where you can’t bother me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Keep talking, Kevin.”

[✝]

              He ended up not actually throwing Kevin out of the car. But when he woke up for the second time that day, there was a tiny ball of fluff curled up next to him, between his side and the seat.

Kevin must have let it in during the night.

Damn ghost.

The sun was rising, and as Lucifer shifted into wakefulness, the puppy yawned, stubby tail wagging as he also woke up.

Absentmindedly, he pets the tiny canine, getting himself up into a sitting position and pulling the dog into his lap.

It promptly peed on him.

“… _Kevin!_ ”

[✝]

“I can’t believe you just left him there.”

“He pissed all over my jeans. He’s lucky I didn’t run him over, too.”

“He’s a puppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re despicable.”

“I’m Satan, what did you expect?”

[✝]

Day 8

Having a toothbrush makes mornings _way_ more bearable. For once, Lucifer _actually_ feels like he’s winning.

Lucifer: 7, Universe: Nada.

[✝]

“Why does she keep looking at me?” Lucifer’s voice is set in a whisper, eyeing the Librarian as she turns away. Again. Does she think he doesn’t know she was just watching him?

“I think she’s checking you out.”

“What, like, you think she’s working with Hell?”

Kevin snickers. “Dude, no, not like that. Like, she thinks you’re handsome.”

The devil arches a brow at Kevin. “Well, I _am_. What’s special about that?”

“Has anyone told you you’re a narcissist?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

[✝]

It’s late. Lucifer’s hungry, and he’s really fucking tired of granola bars and beef jerky. He told himself he wouldn’t, because the place looked nasty, but it was still open, and chicken nuggets are cheap.

So that’s why Lucifer is sitting in his car, listening to the radio at full volume, socked feet kicked up on the dashboard, and making his way through a 10-piece chicken McNugget meal, while Kevin lectured about some movie called Supersize Me.

With a low groan, Lucifer threw a Nugget at Kevin, shooting him a glare as it just passed through the ghost. “Stuff it, ya buttnugget. Let me eat my fake chicken in peace.”

There was a second of pure silence, during which you could hear a pin drop.

And then Kevin burst into a fit of giggles. “Did you just… Buttnugget… where did that even come from, dude?”

Lucifer just lets him laugh, glad that Kevin had at least stopped rambling on about his unhealthy choice for a late-night snack. He’s starting to understand the meaning of ‘Assbutt’, now. It’s not so much an insult, as something said in the spur of the moment that just… stuck.

[✝]

 

Day 9

“Do you boys need help?”

This has to be at least the third time she’s come over to check up on them since they got here. Lucifer exercises his seemingly unlimited patience, smiling at the small woman who works at this library. “We’re fine, thank you.”

Kevin nods in agreement, though he’s rolling back and forth in his chair, evidently bored.

The librarian draws her fleece tighter around herself. “If you’re sure. But _my_ , isn’t it cold over here? Are you sure you don’t want me to turn the heater up?”

Kevin looks at Lucifer and shrugs. Lucifer knows it probably won’t help, because he’s still going to be right next to a moody ghost, but it can’t hurt to try. “Yeah, actually. I’d appreciate it, if you would.”

“Sure thing, uh… Could I get your name?” The mousy woman blushes.

With an internal sigh, Lucifer forces another friendly smile to his face. “Lou.”

She grins back at him. “Alright Lou, I’ll go turn up that heater for ya.”

When Lucifer turns back to his research, he notices Kevin grinning at him.

This continues for several moments until Lucifer shoots a glare the ghost’s way. “Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

“Whatever you say, _Lou._ ”

 [✝]

“Ugh, change the station, this music is crap.”

Lucifer cranks up the volume. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

As if by fate, the song finished the ‘instrumental’ intro, and the car’s speakers blasted out;

Fire up that loud

Another round of shots…

_TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?!_

“Turn down for what?!” Lucifer sings along, moving to the music and grinning as Kevin disappears back into the ring.

Apparently trap music gets rid of ghosts. Nice to know.

[✝]

 

Day 10

“We aren’t getting anywhere.”

“I know, Heylel.”

“It’s not impossible, we just need a different angle.”

“Like what, Kevin? How else are we supposed to find her?”

“I don’t know. Yet.”

“…”

“You told me you don’t break your word.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Lucifer.”

“I know. And I _won’t._ I just… I need a break.”

“So take one. We’re not getting anywhere like this anyways.”

“I know I should… but I can’t help but feel I’d be inadequate for doing so. Tell me Kevin, do the Winchesters ever struggle this much to find what they’re looking for?”

“Well, I… They didn’t really… I’m sure it wasn’t _always_ so easy for them.”

“You’re telling me that they _don’t_ have trouble, then.”

“Not… not that I ever saw…”

“If they can do it, then I sure as hell can. I just… I need to retrace her steps somehow. She was last at the gas station, right? What was she doing there?”

“Just getting something to eat, I think.”

“Wait, so the station was still open then?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Why did it close?”

“I… don’t remember. I didn’t hear anything useful. There were police, and they arrested some people like a year after I’d been abandoned, and then the gas station closed after that. I never found out why.”

Lucifer brightened up at the information. “Kevin, that could have _everything_ to do with what happened to your mother. What was the gas station called?”

“Gas ‘n Sip.”

Typing that into the search bar didn’t produce any useful results. He tried adding ‘closed’ to the search, but that didn’t narrow it down as much as he’d have liked it to. “Do you remember which street it was on?”

“… No…”

“… I don’t either. We’ll just find our way back to it today, and we’ll come back here tomorrow when we know more about the place.”

“Alright.” Kevin smiles at his partner. “Sounds like a plan. See, I knew you’d think of something.”

“Don’t celebrate _yet._ We might find out our lead is nothing, and then we’ll just be back to square one.”

“I’m choosing to hope for the best, thanks.”

             

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter is where the _real_ action will be, so please stay tuned for more of Lucifer and Kevin's wild misadventures!


	3. Things are Looking Up

A full week and a four days he's been playing human now. And playing one rather poorly, he might add. Kevin taught him things like how to use an ATM, drive, and the like, but he's still not great at human interaction, or really anything that involves talking to people.

But at the end of the day, he’s still alive and well, and that’s what counts.

Lucifer: 10, Universe: Still 0, sucker.

They’re still in Neighbor, Michigan, and will be until Lucifer gets a decent lead on Kevin’s Mom. It turns out that it is _not_ easy to find someone who’s been missing since 2014, especially when that someone might be considered a Jane Doe.

He’s gotten much better at driving, in his opinion. At least, less people honk at him than they used to. He’s seen more demons around town, and he’s fairly sure that’s because he was last seen in Michigan, but none have noticed him yet. Or if they have, they haven’t shown it. He’d very much like to get out of town, but he made a promise, and one which he intends to keep.

It’s the hellhounds he’s seen that worry him. They can sniff out souls like no-one’s business. Thankfully, he hasn’t gotten close enough to one for them to notice him, and Kevin’s soul seems to be enough to not make him seem like an anomaly.

As long as he doesn’t draw attention to himself, he’s been able to walk right past groups of demons. He even bought groceries from one that had possessed a checkout clerk, and she didn’t so much as bat an eye, merely commenting that she liked his sunglasses.

If he’s being honest, He’d say that he’s not so much good at hiding, as the demons are bad at looking. They don’t seem to really be trying, and it truly amuses him to know that Crowley doesn’t inspire enough fear in his subjects to have them actively searching for the devil.

Today finds him back in the library, Kevin’s ring bouncing on his chest as he waves to the Librarian who seems to perpetually be at the desk. She smiles when she sees him, waving back before returning to her novel. He makes his way to the rear of the library, where there’s a row of computers, and nobody nearby this early in the morning.

“You’re clear, Kev.” As he spoke, Kevin flickered back into existence, plopping down onto his usual chair.

“I think she likes you.” He starts, without preamble.

“Who? The librarian?” Lucifer looks in her direction, pulling an ‘ehhh’ face.

“Yeah.”

“Nah.”

“Nah, you don’t think she’s into you? Or Nah, you’re not interested?”

“Both.”

“Oh, come on dude, she’s totally got a thing for you. She keeps coming over to ask if you need help, and I don’t see her doing that for anybody else.” Kevin teases him, grinning. “And she’s cute, so why not?”

The devil rolls his eyes, booting up the computer. “Maybe it’s because I’ve come in here every day, for five days in a row, and I spend hours on the computer each time. I don’t exactly seem like someone who’s finding what I’m looking for.”

“Because you’re not.”

“Exactly. And it’s her _job_ to help people who aren’t finding what they’re looking for, right?”

“I think you’re overestimating people’s enthusiasm for doing their jobs.” The ghost deadpans, still smiling. “And you didn’t deny that she’s cute.”

The devil rolls his eyes exasperatedly. “She’s human. Therefore, not my type.”

“The Antichrist would disagree.”

“The antichrist does not exist, and never will, so stuff it.”

Kevin huffs, shaking his head. “You’re no fun.”

Lucifer responds with a shake of his own head, opening up the computer’s web browser. “Why do you care about my interest or lack thereof in that woman? She’d only distract me from finding your mother, you know.”

Today, he’s decided to look for anything odd around the gas station he found the car at. He drove back to it yesterday, because neither he nor Kevin could remember what it was called, or what street it was on. They poked around inside while they were there, and didn’t find all that much. Kevin thought it was a good place to start though, and since nothing else they’d searched for had panned out, Lucifer was more than willing to try it.

“You’re a grumpy guy, Lucifer. Your only friend is a ghost, and you live in a car. I think you need to loosen up and go flirt with that woman. You’re not helping anyone if you’re miserable.”

The computer was having issues connecting to the internet, as it sometimes does at this library. He waits for it to start working again, absently playing the dinosaur-cactus-jumping game until it reconnects. “Yeah, like asking someone I have no interest in out to dinner is going to make me less miserable. Pass.”

“You never know. Maybe you’ll end up liking her too. She’s gotta be smart, she’s always reading books.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on, you grumpy old man. Live a little.”

“Not in this lifetime, kid.” If Kevin’s going to call him old, he’ll call the ghost a kid. Them’s the brakes.

“Lame.”

“Says the virgin ghost.”

“Shut up, Satan.” Kevin pushes his shoulder, causing Lucifer to mess up on the game he’s playing. He scowls briefly, but the internet connects soon after, so he doesn’t mind it too much. He won that conversation, anyways.

“Gladly, Buttnugget.” For whatever reason, that completely random insult always got a giggle out of Kevin, which is why Lucifer used it. It was something said completely at random, but it stuck.

As expected, Kevin giggled and dropped the subject.

Searching for the Gas Station comes up with several articles, actually, and Lucifer finds himself thanking some higher power that this doesn’t seem to be another dead end. The first Article in particular really catches his eye. It’s from the local paper, and the title reads “Gas Station to close due to employee involvement in human trafficking ring.” He looks curiously at Kevin, who seems completely at a loss.

Opening the article details out for them everything known about the illegal activity going on there. Apparently, for _years_ before it closed, the owner and her employees had used the place as a cover for human trafficking. They’d taken an estimated 200 people over that time, many of which were still unidentified. On top of that, they would get rid of people’s cars by taking them to a chop-shop, and reselling the parts. Kevin mentioned remembering a tow truck coming to take his car away, which he stopped by snapping the hook. The article said it would be updated when the case was closed, and everyone involved had been caught, but since it hadn’t yet, the article still stated it was an ongoing investigation.

Apparently, what tipped the police off was the disappearance of one of their own while she was off-duty, which they traced back to the gas station. Everything they have for it is probably still at the police station, in the evidence lock-up.

By the time he finished reading the article, Lucifer was in an even more foul mood. He’s heard more than enough about Linda Tran to know she was a good fucking person, and to think she might’ve ended up the victim of a human trafficking ring _really_ ticked him off. She was someone he could have respected, and she didn’t deserve _this._

It takes him a moment to realise that he’s angry over a human he’s never even met.

The air grows colder next to him, and he realises that Kevin must be getting angry too. And he has every right to be, honestly.

Lucifer writes down the name and address of the station, and tucks it away into his backpack. He prints the article and a few others related to it, and then logs back out of the computer. “I think we’ve got a lead. We have to get into that evidence lock-up.”

“Yeah. I have an idea for that. Let’s get out of here.” Kevin nods, disappearing again into the ring.

Today, the research took significantly less time than Lucifer was expecting it to, and he found himself glad to leave the library quickly for once. Finding and reading that article had only taken him a total of about 20 minutes, making him feel silly for taking so long to think of the old gas station.

He walks up to the librarian before he leaves, needing to get the pages he printed out from her. She seemed surprised to see him done so early. “Found what you were looking for?” She asks him pleasantly, setting down her book.

“I hope so. I’ve spent enough time looking for it, don’t you think?” He replies with a touch of sarcasm, making her smile in agreement.

“You certainly have, Lou.” She laughs softly, standing up to get his pages from the printer. She arches a brow as she reads the Article titles. “You’re interested in the Organ Trade ring? What are you up to?”

He really doesn’t have time for a chat. Lucifer pulls out his wallet, taking out a five, which he’s sure is too much, but he doesn’t really care. “I’m helping out a friend, he’s looking for someone, and I have reason to believe the ring may be involved in her disappearance. This should cover the printing, right?”

The librarian, who he’s just noticed is wearing a nametag that says ‘Vicky’, hands over his articles, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. Good luck finding whoever you’re looking for, Lou.”

Taking the pages from her, he puts his wallet back away. “Thanks, Vicky. Here’s to hoping she’s alive and well.”

She waves as he turns to go. “You know where to find me if you need any help!”

Lucifer waves back, nodding his acknowledgement and sliding his sunglasses back on as he goes. He flips his hood up too once he’s outside, though he doesn’t see any demons nearby. There’s a Hellhound across the street though, so he speeds up his pace as he heads for his car. Fortunately, the hound doesn’t notice him.

Having Kevin nearby has been more useful than he anticipated. When the ghost isn’t visible, the ring Lucifer wears on a chain around his neck shines like a soul (through the sunglasses). It must smell like one too, and that scent is masking his own distinctly non-human one. So as long as Kevin doesn’t leave the ring in public, Lucifer passes for an average human.

And furthermore, making friends and asking for help isn’t something anyone, especially Crowley, would expect Lucifer to do. The demons and hellhounds are looking for a graceless Angel, they aren’t looking for someone carrying a ghost around with them. He’s gotten one or two double-takes from demons, but none of them seemed to care very much about (what they perceived to be) a ‘ghost’ walking around in broad daylight.

He’s not too thrilled about it, but he’s grown the beginnings of a beard. He wanted to buy himself a razor to shave with, but Kevin said it was probably a good idea to let it grow out. He eventually agreed, if for no other reason than that it’ll obscure his features. It itched like hell right now, though, and that’s one aspect of it he could really do without.

**[I’d just like to say that I do _not_ recommend searching Google for what Mark Pellegrino looks like with a beard. I did, because I couldn’t remember if he could actually grow facial hair or not, and I was distracted for like an hour by pictures of Mark with a beard. And then I sent like fifty of them to my bestie, and she was very annoyed at me because she was in the middle of an important meeting. And her ringtone is the shower-screaming scene from ‘Psycho’. But _hot-damn_ , that man looks good. There’s one where he’s in flannel too, and I just… I’d let him take me way back in the sticks. He can totally check me for ticks.]**

**[While you’re at it, definitely do _NOT_ look up Rob Benedict in a leather jacket.]**

**[Have you seen that one deleted scene from that one movie where Mark is like, sexually feeling up a car? The _Pellebooty_ , man. *dead*]**

**[And, now back to your regularly scheduled Fanfiction. Thank you for waiting while your author is loading.]**

Kevin said he looks okay, though Lucifer disagreed. He only acquiesced to Kevin’s insistence that he keep it when the ghost said everyone looks a little awkward until it grows out enough to look good and stop itching. He said it’s good that at least Lucifer’s facial hair wasn’t growing in a strange, patchy way. It looked pretty even, and that was a good sign.

Apparently, not everyone can grow a decent beard, but it looks like he can.

The itching still really sucks, though.

But what all of this is doing, is making him more and more anonymous, which really helps his case. He’s not going to complain about beating the odds.

He just hopes it all stands the test of time.

• • •

“This is stupid.” Lucifer tugs at the tie around his neck with one finger, attempting to loosen up the noose-like article of clothing. “This whole plan is stupid. There’s got to be a better way.”

“Sam and Dean do this all the time, and it works for them.” Kevin reminds him, looking the devil over critically. “Try the red one.”

Lucifer looks over at the collection of ties he and Kevin had picked out. “The one with polka-dots? As if. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that.” He flattens the grey-and-steel-blue striped tie down his front, shaking his head disapprovingly. “And that doesn’t exactly instill confidence in me. Sam and Dean are stupid too.”

“They beat you. Twice.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Kevin picks up a red tie with diagonal grey and black stripes. “I mean this one. And what would you rather do? Break into a police station?”

“Maybe.” Lucifer undoes his current tie, and starts putting the red-grey-and-black one on. “At least when we get caught, I won’t be wearing a damn _tie_.”

“It’s not that bad, dude. What do you have against dressing sharply?”

“I’m going to stick out, that’s what I have against it. Your plan is going to get me killed, Kevin.” He pulls the red one tight, looking himself over in the mirror. Kevin’s right about it, it sits well with the black suit and white dress shirt. He puts the sunglasses back on, and he has to say, he _looks_ like the kind of guy who’d work for the FBI.

“Don’t be dramatic. You’re going to be fine. If Sam and Dean are as idiotic as you think, and they get away with it all the time, then so can you, right?”

Lucifer gives a short hum of disagreement.

“I mean,” Kevin starts off teasingly, “unless you think they’re _better_ at lying than you are.”

“I hate you.”

“The feeling is mutual, buddy.”

“Worst best friend ever.”

“Yep.”

“Fine.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah. But only for you, nugget.”

Kevin grins widely in response. “Great! Now let’s put the rest of this stuff back, and find out how to make a fake badge.”

“Tch. ‘let’s’. Like you’re going to help.”

Laughing, Kevin disappears back into the ring.

• • •

Lucifer’s nerves are totally on edge as he parks in front of the official-looking building. It’s crawling with police and demons. Honestly, that’s a smart move on Crowley’s part; making sure there are demons in the police stations. He must know Lucifer doesn’t have any formal kind of identification, and he certainly doesn’t have a driver’s license. So if he managed to get ahold of a car, it’d only be a matter of time before an officer brought him in.

Unfortunately for Crowley, he didn’t consider the chance that Lucifer would get himself a very good tutor, who doubles as a get-out-of-jail-free card. He was caught speeding once, and Kevin managed to possess the officer, effectively making him forget everything and go his own way.

But even if he didn’t have a car, it’s probably a safe bet that Lucifer would get himself arrested sooner or later. Or do something completely stupid, like walk up to a police station pretending to be an FBI agent.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Come on man, you can’t get cold feet now. We’re so _close_. I can feel it.”

“Kevin, look at that. Can’t you _see_ all of them?”

“Yeah man, I see them. But we haven’t had any trouble fooling those morons before, why would that change now?”

“There’s just so many of them. If even _one_ recognises me, I’m completely screwed.”

“So don’t let them recognise you. You’re Nick Starr, Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, and you’re looking for evidence on an old case you think may be connected to the disappearance of your partner. You have a card with the number the Hunters use for this kind of thing, so if they ask for proof, give them that.”

“Assuming this number still works.”

“They didn’t change it the whole time while I worked with Sam and Dean, why would they have changed it in the last two years?”

“But there’s still a chance that it did change.”

“If they don’t pick up, I’ll possess the phone and talk to the officer. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“You can do that?”

“… Yeah, totally.”

“You fill me with confidence.”

“I’m sure I can. I mean, I figured out how to possess a guy, and a car, how hard can a phone be? And I’ve answered the phone for Sam and Dean before, I can convince them you’re legit.”

“I sure hope you can.” Lucifer sighs, straightening his tie and opening the car door. Kevin disappears back into the ring. “Well, here goes nothing…”

Appearance is everything, and Lucifer doesn’t just mean his attire. If he wants to convince these people that he is who he says he is, he’s got to walk in with all the confidence of a man doing his job. He’s got to make it seem like this is just something he does every day, or they won’t buy it.

He locks his car, stuffing the keys into his pocket as he makes his way to the entrance. He draws a few odd looks, but he doesn’t pay them any mind as he sweeps into the building like he owns the place. Thankfully, the woman at the desk isn’t possessed. He walks right up to her, sliding off his glasses and flashing her his fake badge, leaning against the counter with one elbow. “Agent Starr. FBI. I’m here to look at something in your evidence lock-up, you got the memo, right?”

The older-looking woman wearing too much makeup blinks. “Er, no sir. What memo?”

With a groan, Lucifer hooks his glasses onto his suit pocket. People are more likely to trust someone whose eyes they can see. “I swear, Kevin’s going to hear it from me when I get back. He was supposed to warn you that I’m coming to see what you have on the Oakland County 2015 Human Trafficking Ring case. We’re reopening it, because we may have found new evidence. If we’re right, it’s a lot bigger than just one town.”

The woman’s expression dawns with recognition. “That case? Of course, yeah, I remember that one. It was a big deal here at the station for a while, but officer Hively hit a dead end. I can get her for you…”

“No, that will be alright. I read her reports, I just need to see the evidence for myself. In case there’s something she missed.”

“Of course, of course. I’ll show you where it is in the lock-up, just give me a minute to pull the file number.”

Straightening out his tie and watching the people he’d identified as demons out of the corner of his eye, he offers her an easy smile. “No rush, officer."

• • •

“Here’s it is, Agent.” Darla pulls a dusty cardboard box off of one of the shelves and sets it with a thump onto the nearby metal table. “That’s everything Hively found concrete evidence for, along with notes on her top suspects. What all did you need?”

Lucifer maintains his pleasant attitude, though he wants nothing more than to just take it from her perfectly-manicured claws and tell her to fuck off. “To be honest, I’m not sure exactly _what_ I’m looking for. I just hope it’s in that box, so I’d like to take a look at all of it, if you don’t mind. Do you think I could take this back to the office with me?”

She chews her lip for a moment, looking unsure. “That’s against regulation… but since it’s no longer an ongoing investigation… I can ask the Chief. He might let you have it for a day or two.”

“Please,” The ‘FBI Agent’ nods gratefully, “that’d be very much appreciated. While you go ask him… I hope you don’t mind If I get to work looking through all this?”

“Not at all, Agent Starr.” She gives him a knowing smile. “I’ll be back with an answer for ya in a bit, you go ahead and have a look-see while I’m gone. Good luck!”

He watches her leave, giving a grateful hum. When she’s gone, he drops the ‘nice guy’ act. “You’re clear, Kevin. Help me look through this shit before she gets back.”

The ghost flickers back into existence, not wasting a second in pulling off the box’s lid. “See, I told you you’d be fine.”

“Don’t jinx us, Kevin. We’re not out of the woods yet.” He slides his sunglasses back on, having felt naked without them.

His heart races as he does, because he is, quite literally, a foot away from a hellhound. And it’s looking _right_ at him. His eyes go wide, and his heart thumps deafeningly in his chest.

Kevin notices a second later with a sharp intake of breath.

The massive, shadowy dog cocks its head, looking surprised to be seen. It lowers its head, baring its teeth as it takes a heavy step towards him. Lucifer takes a step back, colliding with the metal shelving behind him.

He’s trapped.

His breathing shallows, and his palms shake as his gaze connects with the hound’s glowing eyes.

He stares at the dog.

The dog stares back at him.

And then it sniffs him curiously.

Kevin seems to be holding his breath as he watches.

The hellhound sniffs at his leg, then his chest, and hand, and finally, it gets right up in his face. Lucifer never breaks eye contact with it, and he tries not to breathe. Or move.

It gives a soft little whine, and nudges his hand, plopping back onto its haunches.

Lucifer is dumbstruck at first, and it takes the hellhound nosing at his hand twice more for him to realise what it wants.

Feeling like this whole situation is surreal (not that he’s complaining), Lucifer reaches up to give the oversized dog a scratch behind the ears.

It starts wagging its tail, and Lucifer relaxes just a little. “You recognise me, don’t you?” The hellhound lunges forward to lick his face, causing his heart to skip a beat in anticipation for something worse. Its tongue is rough, warm, and dry against his cheek. He chuckles a little at his own jumpiness, petting the dog’s smoky fur. “Good dog.”

Kevin gives a low, quiet whistle. “Dude, you’re like, the hellhound whisperer.”

Lucifer pushes the dog’s snout away as it tries to lick him again, smiling a little. “I think we just got incredibly lucky. I’ve always liked the hellhounds, and the feeling is mutual, it seems.” He gives the dog one last scratch behind the ear and then side-steps away from it. “Down.” His tone carries the same authority it did when he was an archangel, and the hound recognises it, stiffening to attention. “Good dog. Now shoo, and I wasn’t here.”

The hound whines, but follows his orders, bounding off and out of the room.

Lucifer heaves a sigh of relief when it’s gone, all but collapsing against the metal shelving. He puts a hand to his chest, feeling Kevin’s ring under his shirt resting there as he waits for his heartbeat and breathing to return to normal. “ _That…_ was a close one. Too close, Kevin. We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, I know. But we can’t just bail now, that lady expects us to be here when she gets back. It’ll raise more suspicion to leave, than if you just wait for her to come back before we go.” As he talks, Kevin starts pulling things out of the box, hurriedly trying to find something useful.

Knowing that he’s right, and with nothing better to do, Lucifer distracts himself with helping Kevin look.

• • •

It’s a long time before the secretary comes back to them, and several other people (all humans) have passed through the evidence lock-up since she left. They’ve decided it’s probably best—much to Kevin’s chagrin—if Kevin stays in the ring for now, in case either a demon or Darla comes through that door. Not to mention, the clothes he died in aren’t exactly inconspicuous in a police station.

She comes back with a form, telling ‘Agent Starr’ that he’s welcome to take the lot of it back with him, as long as he signs off on it. The form doesn’t take long to fill out, as all he really has to do is give them his FBI ID number and his signature. The rest is all initials.

He’s supposed to bring it back in a week, but Lucifer pays that no mind. He definitely won’t risk coming back here, and he intends to have what he needs and be out of town well before then.

But the important part is that he has it, and there was something of a gold mine amongst the evidence.

In the interest of having more room to work with, Lucifer risks renting out a motel room. He still wards it, of course, and that takes him a while, but he considers it worth the time. He and Kevin both intend to stay up until they find their answer.

Inside the box was a laptop, which was apparently password-locked, and hadn’t yet been successfully hacked. Supposedly, attempting to hack it proved only to create the risk that all the information on it be deleted.

It takes Kevin a grand total of five minutes to figure out how to possess and unlock the laptop. All the information they could possibly need is readily available to them on it. Kevin suggests taking it back once they’re done, because the contents of just this laptop would be more than enough to incriminate everyone Hively suspected of foul play.

Lucifer agrees that he should, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, and positive attention is just as bad as negative attention. They compromise, and he agrees to drop the box off at Oakland County station with a note, but refuses to deliver it in person.

Kevin’s proud of him for agreeing to do something good.

Lucifer counters by saying it’s not that he wants to do good, he just wants to show the bad guys that they slipped up, so they’re more careful next time.

Kevin doesn’t argue, but he maintains the most irritating smile on his face as they continue searching through all the Ring’s records.

• • •

“Kevin…”

“…”

Lucifer doesn’t know what to do. He’s not good with… well, with _feelings_. He reaches out as if to put a hand on Kevin’s shoulder, but draws back before he gets very far.

They found her. Kevin’s mom. They both knew this was a very likely possibility, but it seems being hit with the reality of it is far different from considering it a likelihood. The Ring kept very detailed files on all of their victims, listing everything from their names, to which organs were sold to whom.

The worst part was the pictures. Horrible pictures of half-naked people terrified out of their minds. They made Lucifer sick, just looking at them.

Linda Tran was amongst those victims. She apparently never gave her name, but Lucifer was able to find her by searching for the date she was abducted. Three people were taken during February of 2014, and she was one of them. Seeing her picture, Lucifer had to respect the fight still in her eyes, even though she was so obviously terrified.

Kevin hadn’t spoken a words since they’d pulled the file up, his eyes locked to the screen bearing her likeness, and the words: ‘Deceased- 3 March 2016’. The information regarding her was so coldly phrased, so clinical, almost robotic in nature. How could this be the work of humans?

She looked like Kevin, and though the ghost hadn’t said anything, Lucifer knew this had to be her.

Lucifer found himself feeling for the woman, and silently mourning her loss. She was strong all the way to the end, he’s sure of it. She had the spirit of a warrior, and he respected that.

He also found himself more or less indifferent about her death. Since learning about her, he had expected this result. To him, she had never been alive.

But that was not so for Kevin, and Lucifer doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say to comfort his best and only friend. How does one go about telling someone to cheer up when they’ve just found out with absolute certainty that their mother is dead?

Lucifer attempts to imagine what it’s like, and falls short. The closest he can come is Gabriel’s death, and even thinking of it makes his chest ache with regret. It’s not the same, because Gabriel’s blood is on his hands. Kevin couldn’t have possibly prevented the death of his mother, let alone _cause_ it.

Lucifer struggles with himself before settling on remaining silent, deciding that anything he says will be inadequate. He doesn’t give up on trying to comfort the ghost, however. He pulls the fleece from the car off of where he set it on the bed, moving closer to Kevin and draping the blanket over his shoulders, and then putting an arm around the ghost.

He says nothing, but the message is clear: _I’m here for you._

Kevin, who had been completely still up to this point, finally reacted. The ghost lets out a sob, leaning into Lucifer’s side and accepting the support from his friend.

Lucifer knows he can’t make this okay, but he can damn well try to make it better.

• • •

“… Thanks, Lucifer.” Kevin’s voice is soft, subdued, and Lucifer wants to deck the soulless bastard responsible for causing him to feel this way.

He squeezes the ghost’s chilly shoulder. “Anytime, nugget.”

That gets him a watery laugh, which is a huge improvement from the distressed crying of before.

And at least the lights stopped flickering on and off.

There’s silence for a bit longer, and then Lucifer gives Kevin’s shoulder a light jostling. “We’re going to get this evidence back to the police, and they’ll put an end to it, I promise. The bastards who did this to your mother will be caught, Kevin.” He pauses. “Unless you want to hunt them down ourselves, in which case, I’m game.”

Again, Kevin releases a tiny half-laugh. “No, though that’s tempting. You’ve done what I asked. I just… I wanted to be sure. Thank you.” The ghost hesitates, his gaze lingering on the laptop, whose screen had long since powered down into sleep mode. “We should really get out of this town. We’ve been here more than long enough, and you’ll be safer once we move on.”

Lucifer hums in agreement, but didn’t voice it for fear of sounding selfish. (When did he grow such empathy for this boy?)

“Anyways, we can totally do that after we get your grace back.” Kevin makes to stand, and Lucifer lets him, following suit.

The devil smiles in amusement. “Yes, I imagine that would make our revenge a lot easier to accomplish.”

Kevin smiles at him, but the expression is short-lived. “Seriously, Lucifer. Thank you. You didn’t have to help me, but you risked your life in order to. I’ll help you get back on your feet however I can.” He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, but it doesn’t matter much, because Kevin moves on without waiting for a response. “And that starts with telling you to get some sleep. You paid for a bed tonight, you should get some use out of it. So go. Sleep. I’ll man the door.”

The devil shakes his head but doesn’t intend to argue with the ghost. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Goodnight, Kevin. Wake me up if you need anything.”

It’s the first time he’s said that, and he means it. He’s seen Kevin through a rough time in his (after)life, and he now feels closer to the ghost than he ever did before. He realises that part of his readiness to help his friend comes from the knowledge that Kevin would do the same for him, and that Kevin would never abuse that friendship.

Kevin is a good kid, and Lucifer is glad that they met.

And as he drifts off to sleep, he finds himself hoping that they’ll never have to part ways.

• • •

**[Much, much later.]**

Crowley slams a set of low-res, black-and-white security camera photos onto the table. He’s furious. No, he’s _livid._

The demons he’s called together can practically _feel_ how angry he is in the air.

“Do _any_ of you incompetent morons want to explain this to me? How the _Hell_ did he manage to walk into the Oakland County Police Department, waltz past every last one of you sorry excuses for demons, spend an _hour_ going through the evidence lock-up, and walk out with a box full of bloody _God_ -only-knows-what, and not _one_ of you noticed?”

The King of Hell was met with stunned silence. The pictures on the table showed none other than Lucifer himself, smiling charmingly almost directly into the camera, almost like he’s _taunting_ them.

Finally, one demon speaks up. “… What did he take?”

Crowley rounds on the asker. “Well it doesn’t bloody well matter now, does it? It was returned over a _month_ ago. He got whatever the hell he wanted, whether it was something in that box, or if he just wanted to make a point, that he can go wherever he damn well pleases, right under our bloody noses!” In his anger, he snaps, and the demon who asked that unfortunate question dissolved into dust. He looks around at the remaining lot. “Would anyone _else_ like to contribute? You’re all walking on _very_ thin ice here.”

Another one speaks up. “A month ago? I think I remember that. The contents of that box cracked open a case the humans there thought went cold over a year ago. They made a bunch of arrests, there was a big celebration. But they…” Realisation dawns on his face, “they couldn’t find any legitimate FBI Agents that fit the description of the guy responsible. He was that suit that came in acting like he owned the place, remember Dolly?” He nudged the woman next to him, who looked horrified at being singled out.

Crowley turned his full attention on her, and she nodded slowly. “Kind of… but he didn’t seem odd or nothin’. We knows what angels look like without their grace, and he ain’t look that way. It seemed kinda… loose, I guess, but he had a soul.”

Crowley now looks very intrigued. “A ‘loose’ soul? Elaborate.”

Dolly looks to the other demon for help, and he continues. “Yeah, he had a soul. Nobody came through that station that didn’t have one. I remember thinking his was a little weird-lookin’, but he had one.”

Crowley paces back and forth, frustration showing in his every step. Eventually, he stops. “Interesting. So he’s keeping himself hidden behind a soul he either stole, or found. How he managed that, I’ll have to ask him myself. As for now, do any of you numbskulls have an idea for how to find him?”

Again, his words are met with absolute silence. Eventually, it’s Dolly who speaks up. “He had a car. We probably got his license plate on camera.”

Crowley smiles to himself. Of course, he’d already gotten that far, and had other minions looking for the vehicle. This was more-or-less a test to see who he didn’t have to kill.

With a snap, everyone (about ten other demons) but dolly and the other, more talkative demon dissolved into dust. She and her partner looked terrified.

Crowley doesn’t waste more time, making his way out of the room. “Congratulations, you two get to keep your miserable lives. Now come with me, you’re going to look for that damn car until it’s found. Lucifer will _not_ elude us for much longer, not if I have something to say about it.”

Lucifer better watch out. Crowley is on the warpath now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the prequel! Stay tuned folks, because "Resilience" will start coming out within the month, if not the week. I hope you enjoyed this story, and if you did, Comments=Love!!


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